THEM

Chapter 1

The flames curled upwards, reaching towards her soles like wicked fingertips. Aithne thrashed on the pole, the coarse rope rubbing away the delicate skin on her skin. Her feet were starting to warm.
"Please let me go. I've done nothing wrong!" She pleaded, staring out into the sea of immobile onlookers. She caught the eye of a girl about her age with dark, solemn eyes.
"Please." she repeated desperately, her voice cracking.
The flames were now centimeters from her feet, each one rising higher than the previous. The girl looked away. The first flames bit at her feet and moments later she could smell the burning of her own flesh. The pain was like nothing she had ever felt. One moment her head felt like it was exploding from too many neurons firing and the next it was light, fuzzy. As the fire continued upwards, the temperature was so extreme she could no longer tell if her feet were hot or cold, if she was dead or alive. She opened her mouth to scream, but was suffocated by the smoke rising from her burning flesh. Soon some flames had reached her torso and she could no longer tell whether she was inside her body or not. As the flames completely surrounded her and the shape of her body got lost in the crackling shades of orange, she was finally able to let out one horrible, bloodcurdling scream.

Aithne awoke with a start, screaming as drops of cold sweat rolled down her forehead. She looked around frantically and realized she was in her bedroom, safe. It's okay. It's okay. It was just a dream. She tried futilely reassuring herself. But her feet were still burning and she swore she could smell it, that terrible smell. She laid in her bed on her back, her eyes wide open, afraid that images would reappear lest she dared even blink. She let her head roll a bit to the side, but the shadows of her drawers and desk transformed into faces. Them. Aithne snapped her head back towards the uniform ceiling of her room, where no faces threatened to appear. She didn't know how long she laid there, completely immobile, convincing herself of the reality around her, but as the first few rays of dawn peaked through her blinds and vaporized the last of the faces, she finally allowed herself to release a long, shuddering breath. She relaxed slightly, but she knew the memories of this dream would be as intense if not more so than most of her memories of real events. And if it was so, then what differentiated the two?
Aithne knew it sounded crazy, but she was convinced that somewhere, somehow the events existed and now, in the folds of her mind, they would continue existing, probably forever.

~~~

Aithne marched down the stairs and slumped at the table next to her father, aware of the enormous bags beneath her eyes and her bloodshot eyes. She hadn't had a full night's sleep in weeks. If she was able to get four hours of sleep without a nightmare, she counted herself lucky. Her father glanced at her uneasily. She knew a hundred questions simmered beneath his eyes, but wished he wouldn't speak. But she had never been a lucky person.

"Good morning Aithne, how are you doing?"

"Fine." She responded curtly.

"I got an email from one of your professors today."

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. All the different possibilities swarmed in Aithne's mind. She decided silence was the best way to not incriminate herself further.

"Apparently you're failing your mathematics course this semester."

Aithne avoided her father's intense gaze as she occupied herself by pouring some milk in a bowl, still not uttering a word.

"You were at the top of the class in mathematics last semester."

His tone wasn't accusatory, yet she understood the implications behind his words. She added cereal to her milk.

"Aren't you going to say anything?"

"What do you want me to say?" She was already exhausted, and this conversation wasn't helping.