ADOPTED BY PHAN

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

As soon as Iris arrives home, her parents send Isaiah out. It may have seemed rude, but they don't trust him. They fear his motives and the possibility of him lashing out. And although they asked him to leave politely, Iris appears to be upset with them.

With her knees pulled up to her chest, tears staining her cheeks, she looks up from the couch and quietly asks, "How could you just kick him out like that?"

"How could we-" Dan begins, though Phil puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him. He takes a deep breath, composing himself before softly explaining, "Iris, he's dangerous."

More sobs escape from Iris, shaking her small frame as she buries her face in her hands. Dan looks to Phil with deep concern, clearly at a loss of what to do. The older man squeezes his hand in reassurance, then leads him over to kneel in front of his daughter.

Phil gently pulls Iris' hands away from her face, and Dan sits next to her on the couch to wrap his arm around her shoulders. The young girls cries harder, pulling one of her hands away to cover her mouth. Phil envelopes the hand he holds in both of his own, then glances down at her exposed arm.

But there's nothing to see, because the only thing that lies within her forearm are old scars from older days.

Iris begins to quiet down, letting her head fall into Dan's chest as her vision gives out. The two men attempt to keep her with them, but they're brought to no avail. Everything disappears; and the last thing she's able to grasp with her sight are a set of blue eyes.

* * *

"Mummy?" I shouted, searching for any sign of life in the smoke-filled house.

"Iris!" I heard my brother's voice respond, though I couldn't find him. I couldn't find myself. The only sense of reality I managed to grasp was the feeling of his hand yanking mine as we ran.

My small legs fumbled as I tried to keep up with Isaiah's steps, the bond of our hands breaking. I tumbled into the smoke with a scream, reaching for the hope I once held. But I lost sight of that in this sin. My mind was far too filled with fright to keep fighting. Fearing the inevitable damage of fire, instead. I had no strength to pick myself up.

I felt my lungs give out as the smoke let in. My eyes fluttered shut against the heat, body lightheaded with sweat. Isaiah was shouting my name, begging me to get back up. To run while I could, get out of this deathtrap. But there's a reason why they placed trap in that word.

I couldn't move. I could barely breathe. Was I going to die? Was there still time to make it out alive?

"Don't you do this to me, Iris!" Isaiah shouted above me. I could feel his hands over mine, tugging and pulling for some sort of motive. It felt as though my body was moving, dragging along the floor. But maybe that was just a side effect of dying.

"Don't you die on me!" I heard more screaming; the sound of someone trying to pull on a door that wouldn't open. There was hopeless crying, trembling, whining, and I couldn't tell whether it was really coming from me.

As I began to lose my consciousness, I caught the sound of shattering glass. I felt as if I was floating away from the smoke, like I was weightless. I was free.

"Don't you die on me! Iris!" His sobs echoed in my mind, and I wanted so badly to open my eyes. To hold onto my brother, tell him that it was going to be alright. But I couldn't.

Fresh air immediately fought for my lungs as Isaiah set me down. His lips touched my head, tears soaking my hair. He held me so close to his heart I thought my body would beat the same in his arms. I used my last bit of strength to force my eyelids abroach.

Though the sight I was granted was one I'd never wanted to see.

As I lied on the balcony, leaning against my brother for support, I had the perfect view; My house was filled with smoke; My ears rang with every alarm; Glass was scattered all across the floor; Fire was dancing upon my parents' corpses.

And I was just able to hear Isaiah shout my name with a blood-curdling cry one more time, before falling under the darkness of oblivion.

* * *

Iris wakes with a jolt, her body covered head-to-toe in sweat. Her heart rate is faster than the tears streaming down her cheeks, and it takes everything in her to not scream out in fear.

It was just a dream She tells herself. Though she knows that isn't true. It may not be real as of the present, but at one point it was in her past. It's a real thing that she experienced. She thought that it was over. It is over.

But the nightmares are still here.

Pulling her blankets off, Iris realizes that she's still in her clothes. She looks over at her bedside table, sighting her phone and immediately going to check the clock: 3:57am. She has quite a bit of time to burn.

Placing her phone down, she attempts to jump out of bed. Though she quickly stops herself when a small piece of paper catches her eye. Where did it come from? It must've fallen out of her pocket. But it didn't belong to her. At least, not that she can recall.

Iris gives in to her curiosity, pinching the sliver of paper in her fingers. The white card holds a number and a name; Isaiah.

Without giving it a second thought, Iris dials the number on her phone. It rings a few times, the short buzzing almost identical to her racing heartbeat. She sniffles a bit and wipes her tears just as the line is connected.

"Hello?" The boy answers, his voice laced with sleep, yet still alert. "Iris? Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me." She responds.

Isaiah speaks with gentle words, "It's 4am, Girl. Go back to sleep."

"I can't," She sighs. "I had a bad dream."

"What was it about?" He asks, sounding more awake now.

"The fire."

"Oh." Now at a loss for words, Isaiah's last resort is simply asking, "Is there anything I can do?"

There's a short silence followed by a few sniffles. Nothing. The pause drags on, causing Isaiah to worry that the line's gone dead. Though just as he's about to hang up, Iris' distressed voice breaks though.

"Don't ever leave again, Isaiah. Please."