cigarette daydream ━━ the raven cycle

1; the raven boy

I DIDN'T BURN the cabin down because I was angry. I did it because I was desperate.

My parents didn't listen to me. I suppose I should be used to it by now. Sometimes, I fathomed their declining manner. I wasn't a piece of cake, I'll admit to that. My parents merely tolerated me. Sometimes it didn't bother me, the world was too big for me to be seeking validation from people who weren't willing to give it to me. I was aware of their faint disliking to me, and my destructive habits kicked in then. By then I learned to fight back.

Except for today. The argument was of my career path, or something. I wouldn't know, I wasn't mentally present for most of the fight. I recall reciting It's a Wonderful Life frame by frame in my head while I muffled out their shouts. But I could faintly remember my father yelling out something along the lines of; Why do we pay for that prep school of yours if you don't plan on going to an ivy school? The funny part was that I never said I wouldn't go to an ivy league, only that it was too early in my life to put a stamp on the future.

But all my explanations went out one ear and out the other. Their voices drowned out in a muffled noise to me by then. I couldn't take the heat, so halfway through their lecture I went straight out the door. They didn't call on me to come back, because they knew where i'd always run off to after a fight; our cabin by the lake.

    And now, back to the fire.

    I didn't intend on it spreading to the cabin. At first, I was cold. Anyone that visited or resided in Henrietta and spent a night outside in nothing but a spaghetti strapped top — even on a late spring night — would confirm that the chill weather has its way of creeping into your bones. I, very fortunately, always stacked a cigarette pack and a lighter in my jeans pocket.

    "I lit the cigarette for warmth." I managed to persuade the police officer.

    But really, I lit it out of habit. The warmth was a bonus.

The next part isn't really much my fault either. I fell face-first on the dirt, with my grip still firm on the lighter. I'd wholly blame it on my genetics— my mother is just as clumsy. Then, the lighter set the bush on fire, slowly but surely lining its way to the cabin.

I'll admit, I didn't do anything to stop it. Watching the fire burn was almost... comforting. The risk, the anticipation— I didn't fear it, I devoured it. I even saw a way out, as I gaped at the flame. Then it spread quickly. You know the phrase rumours spread like wildfire? Then you should know it's a shit metaphor. One hell of an overstatement, if I do say so myself.

   "That's all I remember. Next thing I know, i'm in the hospital, and now i'm here."

No— if i'm being completely honest, I would mention the voice. I don't like to think about it because it makes me feel certifiably insane. But before I blacked out, I could've sworn I heard a voice saying; "Now, you are reborn." And that was it.

    Now you are reborn.

You can see why I choose to ignore that. It had to be a hallucination. Maybe even a false memory. Otherwise, I wouldn't have remembered it word by word, with the distinct voice.

Then I was in a hospital bed with a nurse looming over me. She informed me of all the patches of burns I had on my skin. "You're lucky you didn't suffocate from the gas," she'd said, but I didn't see anything lucky about having to face my parents after this incident. "First degree burn around your elbows. You're lucky you rolled a few meters a way when you passed out."