Blaze

27. Turning Point

"Do you believe me?"

Can I believe him? Can I accept that my little brother stumbled after me into Hell? Can I let myself watch him burn, eyes stripped away of their colour, cheeks split, magnified, by tears?

(It feels like I'm the one burning, now.)

I can't I can't I can't I can't.

Can I try to deny him breathing right next to me?

I can't I can't I can't.

---

Aren't you glad he's here, anyway? A voice chimes inside me, tinged with wrongness. Aren't you just a teensy bit glad you're not alone anymore?

No!

A teensy teensy teensy bit?

I close my eyes, tight, trying to seal in the image of him at home, with Mother and Jackie. It fades and runs away; I call it back. This time it disappears in a pillar of black flame, and my head burns with it, too hot for tears.

Yes.

I am. (No matter how selfish or illogical or shortsighted it is.)

Yes.

I am. And that's how I'm going to bear his presence.

I am.

"I believe you," I say. There's no doubt anymore.

He's here.

And even if he isn't, if my mind is broken, and the Captain cruel enough, to conjure this perfect hallucination, does it matter? Either way, I'll have to accept his presence. Accept my brother.

Either way, I'll have to treat him like he's real.

---

"You followed me." I won't look at him, though there's less shame in it now that I've changed out of my soiled clothes. (I'm too afraid to want to reach out and hug him, too afraid that if I do so I'll feel at peace, that I'll be glad.)

"You would have done the same. You would have done the same thing. I just... I couldn't let you go, all alone."

I say nothing. The Raiders, in the woods, make my blood tingle with shouted thoughts of drinking and eating, loud enough for me to overhear. Some are asleep (good thing we didn't wake them), settled into their tents: their thoughts are like a constant breeze, gently pressuring my skin. It's dizzying. Strange.

I can hear everyone, all at once. 

Some side-effect of whatever the Captain gave me, maybe. Some sign of change, maybe.

I don't know.

---

I don't like that.

I focus, and the thoughts are easy to block.

Austin keeps talking, faster and faster. Little droplets of water catch between his words.