A Burning Past / Toby Rogers

Chap. 1

8:27pm|

"Fox 10 breaking news. We have more information on the horrific fire that happened on Madison street just 2 days ago. Connie Rogers, the victim's mother, claims that her son, Tobias Erin Rogers, murdered his own father. He then proceeded to light the house on fire- mourning the death of his late sister who had died only a few days prior to this incident. Now to Cody Allen at the scene of the crime..."

"Thank you, Amy," The news reporter began. "Forensics, along with Mrs. Rogers say Toby had taken his father's lighter and thrown it onto the couch, which had caught easily. The fire quickly spread to the kitchen and parts of the upper floor. By the time the fire department had shown up, but Forensics were unable to locate Tobias' body. We recently received a photograph of a young boy who resembles Tobias but Forensics were also unable to complete facial recognition. If you have any leads on whether or not Tobias is alive, or his whereabouts, please call the number on screen now."

My stomach churned and I could feel bile making it's way up my mouth. The photo was taken two days after the fire at a nearby gas station. The way I identified him was the large scar on the side of his face, caused by the car accident with Lyra.

No. No, no, no, no.
He's dead. It's not him. There is no way he is alive.

I blinked. I need to stop thinking about this. If I keep thinking about it, I was gonna go mad. Mentally, I prayed, hoping I could avoid the burden, just for a day.
Please.

Toby could never murder anyone. I knew how much he despised his father, but, deep down, Toby was too kind hearted.

I've been tormented by his death ever since I first saw the flames. Fire, which had once been my favorite force of nature instantly became my least. I was in my room just a couple of houses down from his, in my favorite sweater when I heard screaming. One voice turned into many. Alone, I had run downstairs as I heard a clamor as people seemingly chanted; "Fire! Fire! Fire!"

What I had seen was chaos. Firemen were rushing to the scene as police officers prevented anyone from nearing the ignited building. Slowly the entire neighborhood gathered, watching as the flames smothered the building. By the time a quarter of the building was encased in smoke and flames, Toby's mother, Connie came running out, covered in ash. Nearly the whole house was engulfed in flames and I was sure no one else would make it out alive.

I bolted towards the house only to be stopped by an officer, "No, no, no! You, you don't understand! Toby! My best friend Toby is in there! Toby! T-Toby...!" My once innocent voice now turned into sobs and loud cries. My mother held me by my waist tightly, which now I should thank her for. It wasn't long before the whole building came toppling down on top of each other. Memories which engraved the wood that was the foundation of his house, were nothing but pure ash and debris now.

"Toby...?"

I waited and waited for Toby to follow after his mother, to see him once more as he escaped the building.

No Toby...

I thrashed around attempting to release myself from the officer's tight grip. Incoherent words flooded out of my mouth as I flew to the ground, begging for this all to be fake. I needed it to be fake. I couldn't lose Toby, he was all I had left. All I wanted was him to stumble out, covered in ash. The firefighters managed to put the fire out an hour or so after the whole catastrophe started. They dragged out the remains of an unidentifiable body and I knew instantly to give up. There was no toby.
He's gone.

I remember my mother attempting to call Mrs. Rogers a few days after the incident, hoping to hear some good news. I was on the couch, wrapped in a blanket when she dialed her number. All that came from the other side of the phone were sobs and cries as the mother called out for her son to come home. My mother tried to choke back her own sobs by nodding at no one in particular. Mrs. Rogers explained that she was staying in a nearby hotel and had to make the reservations for the funerals. My mother carried a cloud of guilt whenever she went and the tension was thick enough to suffocate someone.

I shook my head, ridding myself of these tormenting thoughts and shivered as Connie's screams echoed in my head, playing over and over again. Everything was echoing in my head, louder and louder each time. Turning my back to the television, I made my way to the bathroom. There, I turned the sink on and splashed my face with the icy water, attempting to calm myself down.

Toby is gone.

He's really gone and not coming back.

As I pat my face dry with a towel, I examined myself in the mirror. Dark circles spun around my eyes and I looked exhausted. I placed my fingertips under my eyes and pressed down, hoping it was just old mascara.

Yep, those are bags. God, I look like a raccoon.

My mother still told me that I looked just as beautiful as always, but I knew she was only saying that to make me feel better. She was always the optimist in the family, while my father and I were the realists. I closed my eyes and clenched my hands in a tight fist, trying to regulate my breathing. My knuckles turned a pale white tone and my jaw felt sore. As my head spun in a whirl, I slumped against the counter. Resting my head on my knees, I closed my eyes tightly and got trapped into my own head.

I should try and sleep for once.

I wish I could just sleep forever.

I'd wish for a lot of things if I could, but if it came down to just one wish, I'd bring Toby back in a heartbeat.

But then again, how could you be able to sleep at night when you just found out your best friend died?