Changeling: The Daughter of Fire (GxBxNB)

Changeling 5

The police never found an origin point of the fire, no accelerant, no clear cause. It had been like the whole of it had spontaneously combusted all at once. 

However, Ms. Bannerman hadn't made it...

The police didn't levy any charges against me. They had no evidence I could have done it... But what if I had? For the past few days, I could feel something new inside of me, this heat that wanted out... And when I let it, flames danced in my hands...

Maybe I was going crazy... Or crazier... How could I tell anyone what was happening?

***

Ms. Bannerman's funeral was a somber affair, I didn't want to go, but Liam needed me. He didn't cry through it, he just stared ahead like he wasn't even there as people offered their condolences.

The day wound down and she was put into the ground along with the ashes of her parents.

"Liam?" I said, taking his hand. "It's over, we're leaving."

He barely reacted. "I'm going to move in with my dad in Portland." He said after a moment, his voice was empty of any emotions.

"I'm sorry," I said, wrapping my arms around him.

"It's my fault..." His body shook.

"That's not true."

"I wanted her dead, I wished her dead and I got what I wanted..." Tears flowed down his cheek. "I didn't really mean it..."

"Liam, listen to me. It's not your fault!" I gripped his shirt sleeves. "Just because it happened doesn't mean you did it, nobody has that kind of power..."

He started bawling and I drew him closer into a hug. I didn't know what else to say so I didn't try to speak, I just let him cry against my dress' shoulder fabric for a moment. This would be the last moment we shared together before his father called him away...

***

The scene played again in my mind. 

I was in the bathroom, burning up. This time I had plenty of clarity... I splashed myself, the room filled with steam as water boiled upon touching me...

Ms. Bannerman screamed at me, calling me a dirty little sand nigger and a towelhead... Kyle's words came back to me, reverberating through my skull like a gong... 

I wish she was dead.

I burned, not just metaphorically, fire erupted from me...

"Granted."

***

I shot straight up on my bed screaming, I was drenched in sweat and my heart was beating out of my chest. Mom rushed into my room, wearing nothing but a bathrobe she'd hastily thrown on. I couldn't find my breath, I was suffocating.

"Nadia!" She took me by the arm. "It was just a dream."

I collapsed into her arms and started crying. She held me close while fiddling with my dirty knotted hair with one hand. She rocked us gently.

"Everything's alright..." She whispered gently.

"It's not..."

"I know it's hard, but you did everything you could, you tried to save Ms. Bannerman."

"I- I- I..." I tried to answer, but I couldn't make a sound come out of my mouth. How could I explain that I'd killed her, that the fire was my fault... None of it made sense... How could this all be possible? Nobody could create fire like that...

"Mom, can we go to temple?" I begged...

She arched a brow at my request. "At this hour?"

"I just need to think..." I mumbled.

"Alright..." She answered, worry clear in her tone. She came forward and kissed my temple. "Get yourself dressed and clean."

She let me go and went back to her room. I got up and grabbed some clothes before locking myself in the upstairs bathroom. I quickly splashed my face with cold, it didn't steam this time.

I was going crazy... That had to be the answer... But how did that explain anything else? My gaze drifted next to the big bathtub. Mom always kept candles around it for whenever she wanted to get some peace and quiet... I reached out and grabbed one. I focused on it and my hands, I could feel this warmth inside of me, it was like it was begging to be released...

I closed my eyes, focused on that warmth... And then I felt a second warmth, I opened my eyes and the candle was lit...

But how... This just wasn't possible... This was real life, this wasn't a Stephen King novel, and I wasn't about to get revenge for being drenched in pig's blood.

"Nadia, are you alright?" Mom asked from beyond the door. "You're taking a while?"

"Sorry!" I said. I blew the candle and flushes the empty toilet. "I need to shower."

I jumped into the shower and set it to cool water, which didn't make me shiver or anything... I washed myself quickly and got out. I dried myself quickly before dressing in a long skirt and a big blouse before wrapping my hair in a scarf.

I got out and joined mom downstairs, we hopped in one of the cars and drove. I'd never been the most religious kind, or even decided. I'd always been floating between dad's Christian faith and Islam, which mom followed. They'd never been the type to push either, inviting us to follow them to church or temple.

In this case, Temple wasn't a true mosque, but a room at the local Islamic community center, which was itself just a converted suburban house. The local Muslim community was too small for a real mosque, small enough that half of it was my extended family from my mother's side.

Mom dropped me off. "I'll pick you up later, call me?"

I nodded. "Thanks."

She dragged me into a hug and kissed my scarf covered hair. "I'm sorry all this happened to you."

At this hour, the door was locked, but I knocked and Mohammed the cleric (and also my uncle), who never seemed to know what sleep was, let me in.

"Nadia, what a surprise."

"Hello, Uncle," I said with a smile. "I need someplace to think and meditate on everything that's happened."

"Of course." He put a hand on my back and gently pushed me inside. "Let me make tea."

"Thank you. I'll be in the prayer room."

"Very well."

I removed my shoes and used the little bathroom to wash my face and hand as was proper before going into the room itself. There were mats placed about for people to use. I saw down and then began the usual routine of prayers, there was something soothing about the routine of it, even if I didn't usually perform Salah, which made me a terrible Muslim... Although I wasn't really sure what I believed... Especially not anymore...

A few minutes into my prayers, someone spoke. It wasn't uncle Mo or his wife.

"You're a difficult girl to find."

I turned around and saw a woman standing behind me. I'd never seen her in my life. She was a tall and slender black woman, her hair was dyed colorfully and braided, reaching the waist. "And we have much to talk about," She added.