Soul in Flames | A Noah Sebastian Sequel

chapter five.

This hospital is filled with so many people. So many doctors, so many nurses and so many patients, so many staff and so many visitors. But it's so quiet. I can't hear anything. I can only hear the ringing in my ears, the tap of the above floor dripping, the sound of the lights flickering in the hall and the numerous voices in my head. They were the loudest of all the sounds.

The voices in my head I couldn't quite recognise but they carried some kind of familiarity. Some of them seemed like voices I'd never heard before and some others were voices I haven't heard in years. They all spoke in turn and then all at once. They all told me the same thing, 'you can't do that' , 'you'll never make it' , 'you're not strong enough' and everything else along those lines. I've heard it all before. But I'm not going to tell her I hear the voices.

"They said I couldn't be a firefighter, it was a man's job. A woman's job is to have babies and keep a household" I mocked. "Boy did I fucking show them, but at the expense of my own happiness to a degree. I can remember the sound of the fire as it took hold of my home and I can feel the heat of the flames as we stood out in the yard" I said I stared at the same white ceiling as every other day. I remember that feeling distinctly.

"Can you remember what started the fire?" Dr Samuels asked me. I don't know if she was genuinely interested or she was so good at showing genuine interest because it was her job. But I decided to let my guard down for just a moment. Talking about being a firefighter, my passion, my whole reason for living, it felt nice. I wanted to feel nice for once. And maybe, just maybe, she'll believe me.

I smiled because I've seen so many fires in my time now, many of them easily avoidable and preventable. Just like ours. "Yeah I do" I started as I watched my memory play out on the ceiling. "Margaret was painting in her gallery that afternoon. I was enjoying my one hour a week with the tv and the boys were outside doing whatever young boys do. She had her favourite candle, Lemongrass scented, burning nearby some curtains. The candle somehow got too hot and exploded. It fully popped the glass and pieces of the lit wick landed on her lace curtain and woosh". I tried to hide the smile on my face in fear that Dr Samuels would judge me, and she's right for doing so. I'm smiling because of two things. It was my fathers home that was engulfed in flames but also as a firefighter it's exciting to say woosh when talking about a fire!

"Mum ran out screaming and managed to close the door behind her so it kept the fire relatively contained to her gallery. She collected me and met the boys outside, but no one knew where Stanley was". I paused for a moment, because it was this moment that was pivotal in my life. "Firefighters arrived and we told them we couldn't find Stanley. And me being me, knew exactly where he was at all times. I kept tabs on his whereabouts at all times, even at the ripe old age of seven. I memorised the sounds of his footsteps" I giggled, how fucking ridiculous for a child to do that. "I told the firefighter he was in the kitchen and drew them a small map of my house. They all put on the air cylinders, entered my house and out came Stanley. His coworkers stabilised him and he was shipped to hospital".

Dr Samuels sat with a small smile playing on her face. Her ankles were still crossed and her notepad was still on her lap. She didn't change much. I learned how to read her. "Wow, that must have been scary to go through" she commented. "How did this translate into you being a firefighter?" she asked inquisitively. I knew it was her job to ask these questions but for once, I kind of felt happy to talk about it. It's rare that I ever want to and get to talk about my passion and my story.

I smiled, "the firefighters congratulated me when they found my dad - they were the only ones to do so - But I was too busy looking at all the cool gear they had. The firefighters showed me everything they were using, and explained everything to me, I was hooked. After everything they let me even spray the hose on my own house before they left" I smiled brightly at the thought. It was one of few pleasant memories. "But not only was the house fire a turning point for me, it was for Patrick too. When they were rebuilding our house, he showed a keen interest with the carpenters and now he runs his own carpentry business. So it kind of changed all our lives".