Pyro

XII

Sunny

This wasn't how I planned my life. It was supposed to be summer parties, family dinners, college dreams, and endless possibilities. Instead, I was picking glass from my skin in a mobster's mansion, trying to piece together which explosion just wanted to kill me.

Everyone has a plan until life hits back.

Maybe that's why my mind drifted to another moment that shattered expectations. A memory I keep locked away, right next to the one about Mom's last drive...

"Close your eyes."

His voice held that playful edge I love, the one that made butterflies dance in my stomach. We'd been dating for six months, and he still found a way to surprise me.

"If this is another attempt to teach me how to cook," I warned, but closed my eyes anyway.

His laugh warmed something in my chest. "Better. No peeking."

The garage door groaned open. Motor oil and summer heat hit my nose - my favourite combination. His hands on my shoulders guided me forward, positioning me just so.

"Okay," excitement leaked into his voice. "Look."

I opened my eyes to rusty yellow paint and dented panels. A Dodge Challenger Demon sat before me, looking every bit like it had been dragged from automotive purgatory.

"It's..." I circled it slowly, cataloguing every flaw, every possibility. The 6.2L V8 would need complete rebuilding. The body had more wrinkles than a Shar Pei. But underneath...

"Perfect," I breathed.

"Perfect?" He raised an eyebrow. "It's a wreck."

"It's potential." My mind was already racing - navy blue paint, twin racing stripes, custom V8 pushing 1200 horses. "It's everything."

His arms slid around my waist as I popped the hood. "I knew you'd see it. My little grease monkey."

The nickname should have annoyed me, but his touch made everything feel right. I leaned back, studying the engine block. "The supercharger's shot, but-"

His grip suddenly turned bruising. "What's this?"

I followed his gaze to where my shirt had ridden up, revealing week-old bruises from a clumsy encounter with my toolbox. But something in his voice had changed.

"Babe, it's nothing-"

The hood slammed down with enough force to shake the car. I barely registered moving before my head cracked against metal.

"Who gave you those bruises?" Each word dripped venom. "Who touched what's mine?"

Blood trickled into my eye. The garage spun. "Please-"

"TELL ME!"

Another impact. Darkness was creeping in at the edges.

The last thing I saw was flames reflecting in his eyes.

The memory fractures as reality explodes around me. One moment I'm lost in the past, the next I'm airborne - thrown backward by force that turns the bathroom into a war zone. My spine meets the mirror with enough violence to create a storm of glass diamonds. The world goes underwater, sound distorting like I'm hearing everything through layers of cotton and smoke.

Not again. Please, not this again.

Through the haze of smoke and spinning vision, a figure materialises in the garage doorway. Head to toe in crimson, they stand unnaturally still amid the chaos - like blood given human form. I blink hard, trying to clear my vision, but when my eyes open again, they're gone.