An Old Flame Never Dies

Untitled Part 1

I was disassociating. The heat surrounded me. Smoke filled my lungs, the scent of burnt hair swirling around me. Light so bright it's all I could see. I just stood waiting to be engulfed by the fire. Then my phone rang. I snapped back into reality. I was staring at myself in the mirror, dripping wet from the shower, my phone buzzing, ringing away on the edge of the sink.Looking down, I saw an unknown number on the screen. I breathed in muggy shower air. But it was better than smoke. I quickly dried off, ignoring the phone call. I wrapped my short shoulder-length hair in a towel to put lotion across my chubby olive-colored skin. On my knees were scars from where I'd fallen during sports. My wrists contain small lines, looking like a railroad track. Smoothing lotion over these parts, I always took my time. I ensured there was extra care for these healed wounds, as I never got that when they happened.Once dressed, I went to grab a beer from the mini fridge, then plopped on the hard motel bed. The sheets were rough against my skin, no matter though. After I finish this pack of beers, I'll be asleep and, on the move, again tomorrow. So, drink up tonight, I told myself.Driving the next day, nothing unusual. I had been going and staying in random motels for weeks. I just wanted to stay in one place only as long as necessary. My phone rang again, interrupting my Spotify playlist. Unknown flashed on the screen. I answered this time as I hadn't the past couple of days. Hello?Samanta? This is Detective Peterson. How are you?I'm alright I said, sighing.That's good, he replied, trying to sound optimistic. Especially after all you have been through, you deserve to feel good. Anyway, the fire department could not locate the cause of the fire. But the final ruling is accidental. And again, I'm sorry for your loss.My eyes welled up. I couldn't see the road any longer. Thanks, were all I could reply.Well, Samanta, I'll let you know if anything else arises. And please, dear, ring the station and ask me if you need anything.The line went dead.I blinked, and tears began rolling down my cheeks. I sniffled, wiping them away so I could see the road again. I turned up the music and drove faster than I should have.Finally entering another small town with a run-down motel, I drove until I found the liquor store. I grabbed a small whiskey bottle and returned to the motel to check in. This one was just a line of rooms up to 10. The parking lot was nothing but dirt; the clerk was friendly in a small-town way. The room itself was brown. Brown carpet, brown walls, even the sheets on the bed were. Well, they were beige, but still. The TV was one of those old box TVs with only a few channels. I opened the bottle to take a swig. Setting it on the sink, I stripped off my clothes to shower. The water was cold. It felt nice against my hot skin.Changing into clean clothes, I sat on the bed, almost finishing the bottle. Hearing the detective's voice ring in my head, the fire was an accident he kept repeating. The fire was an accident. I laid my head on the pillow, falling asleep to the fire. It was an accident...The following day, my head was pounding. I didn't eat much yesterday and was definitely regretting it. I gathered my things, threw them in my car, and then drove until I found an open diner.The diner was just on the edge of the town; I'm sure it was the last stop for any outsider coming through to help provide income for the city. It was a cute spot. The food was good, and the waitress was sweet; I tipped her half of what my meal was. On my way to my car, I smelled smoke. I quickly looked around to see if something close was on fire. The smell was getting more robust; it was causing me to cough. I fell to my knees, coughing, sputtering for help. I looked up to the sun, but instead of the sun, it was flames. Flames surrounded me, smothering me. I couldn't move.Then again, back to reality. I was on my hands and knees by my car, wheezing. I stood and looked around, making sure no one saw how crazy I must've looked. I jumped in my car and drove away as quickly as I could.I drove until dusk. I stopped to refill a couple times. I didn't want to stop. The heat was getting too intense; the smoke began suffocating me. I couldn't stop going. I needed to get as far away as possible from home. Or what was left of it? Stop it, I yelled at myself. Don't keep thinking about it! Keep driving. Stop thinking.A little past 2 am, I stumbled upon a rest stop. I had to pull over to sleep. I was too tired to continue. I parked my car, ensuring the doors were locked, and passed out. I woke around 8 am. No one was here yet, thankfully.Stumbling out of my car to the rest room I almost pissed myself. While peeing, I could hear shuffling in the bathroom. I looked to see if I could see any feet under the door, but there was nothing. I quickly wiped and pulled up my pants. Shuffling again, this time closer sounding. I didn't flush; I just stared through the small crack of the stall door and wall. Then, I could hear wheezing. I still couldn't see any feet under the stall, so where was this coming from. I kept looking through the gap when a dark figure went by. I held in a scream. I could smell charred skin. I wanted to gag but kept quiet. The shuffling moved past my stall to what sounded like the end of the restroom. I tried my damnest to quietly unlock the booth. I peeked out, seeing nothing; I opened the door and tried to run out. I ran into the thing I saw. It crunched when I hit it. Flakes flew in every direction. I screamed, flailing my arms about trying not to fall. The smell of death hung around me. I ran as fast as I could from there to my car. Once in, I looked in my rearview mirror to see my face was covered in soot. I screamed, wiping my face as hard as I could. What the fuck was happening to me? What was that thing? Again, the detective's words rang in my head: the fire was accidental.I couldn't take it anymore; there was no way I was out running this. It's been a long drive, and I can't outrun it. The further I go, the worse it gets. I began to drive home.The drive home seemed shorter than what I had driven to get away. I walked up to the apartment building around 11 pm. I just stared at the doors before entering. The last time I was here, there was chaos. Lights were flashing, people were yelling, and people were running around. Everything was so loud. Inhaling sharply, I walked in. Took the elevator to the third floor and walked down the hall to 3F. The hallway was still reeked of smoke. The door still was charred with tape closing it off.I pulled out my keys, slashed through the tape, and opened the door. They really didn't change the locks. I walked in. The air hung heavy with sadness. Most everything was gone, burned, or covered in soot. I stepped carefully, hearing my heartbeat in my ears. I had to face this; otherwise, it won't stop. Walking to the bedroom, the heat was on my skin again. The smell of smoke filled my nostrils. I resisted as hard as I could. The door to the bedroom was gone; stepping in, I saw where our bed used to be. Nothing was salvageable in the room. Everything ruined. Fire stains everywhere. I could hear his voice calling for me. Yelling for me to help him.The flames danced around me, now lighting the burned room. Smoke dark, thick towards the ceiling. The smell of burning hair now wafting through. The heat was so hot it was blowing my hair around. Tears streamed down my face. I let out a small I'm sorry. But was I really?A couple days before the fire, I found his phone unlocked while he was in the shower. Curiosity had gotten the best of me, so I scrolled through his texts. Sure enough, there she was. The 19-year-old he was cheating on me with. All sorts of pictures of her are in his files. All the sexting they had done while I slept next to him in our bed.The bastard had been cheating on me. But was he also beating her like he did me? I looked down at my arms and saw the bruises were finally gone. He'd only started being abusive just a few months before. He'd get drunk and accuse me of cheating on him. Asking to see my phone, unlock my laptop, etc. Then when he didn't find anything, he'd slap me or grab me and throw me around, all while yelling at me, calling me a lying whore. That I must've deleted the evidence. Five years together, and I never saw that coming. Ever. It wasn't until he began to have those outbursts that I started to suspect anything.I was sweating profusely now. The heat was too much, so I began to wheeze harshly and sat down against the door frame.The night of the fire, he and I had a couple drinks. Of course, he'd have more than I did, which is what I had hoped for. As he drunkenly slept, I climbed out of bed as quietly as possible. I grabbed a bottle of Soco and poured it all over his side of the room and on him, then I just put the bottle on the floor next to him, letting it pour out. I grabbed one of his unfinished cigarettes to put in his hand. I lit a match and dropped it. The fire started out slow but then got more significant; it spread. I slowly backed out of the room and stood in the doorway. It took him a while to wake up. Once he did, his drunk ass tried blowing the fire off him. He called out after noticing I wasn't in bed with him. I stayed quiet; I stayed still. He began to panic now. The fire dividing us. He called for me, crying out for help. Why didn't he just jump through the fire, I thought. Then I heard him. I'm sorry he kept saying. I'm so sorry. I love you; please help me. I promise I'll break it off; I'll stop hurting you. You don't deserve any of this; I'm so sorry. I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I began to cry. I made a mistake. The fire roared as I tried to get to him. I yelled I love you, he cried I love you too. Save yourself! he yelled to me. Get out while you still can. So I did. He screamed in pain. I cried in despair. Realizing what I had done. My hair was singed along with my nightgown. I couldn't stop coughing. I made it to the front door. The neighbors were panicking, all on their phones, calling the fire station. I crawled and sat across from my apartment as smoke came bellowing out. I was bawling, crying out for him.I felt arms around me, snapping me back to reality. It was him. He was just as handsome as the first time I saw him. He kissed me passionately, telling me he was sorry. Be with me, he said. I walked into the bedroom, and the fire started. This time, it was just the haunting fire; it was a real one. We held each other as the flames danced around us, the smoke filling our lungs. We kissed, exchanging breaths for as long as we could. The fire burned my clothes, melting my shoes. I could feel my hair burning up, smelling it. He held on to me as tight as he could. Whispering, it only hurts for a moment. I was forgiven. The pain was so intense I screamed, tears streaming down my face. He kissed me, then it all went away.