Show Me Who You Really Are

Nine

Ian sat in his room. The bed was a crate with the top cracked off and a bunch of pillows stacked inside it, and one really big quilt given to him for Christmas by his neighbor who died in the array of fires that started on his street. The walls were burned with such a degree, they had scorched holes in them that let in the little bit of sunlight that he could get.

He'd went home an hour after helping Gabi with unpacking. He stared at the journal. He was unsure if he actually wanted to write his thoughts because they were all over the place. He didn't want to face the reality. He grabbed a pen from his backpack and began writing.

I stare at these walls everyday remembering what has been done. I fail to sleep peacefully when all I dream is bad things. I want to protect Gabi. Not for her, but because everyone around me always dies and I don't know why. I can't let it happen again. Especially because he's gotten stronger. He probably

Ian stopped himself. "No." He said aloud. He wouldn't blame it on himself or him. He walked around the house slowly. Touching the brittle, scorched wallpaper as he walked past.
*****
He remembered coming home from school and seeing his aunt who decided to care for him after his parents died. She was upset that he had gotten into trouble again and told him: "I wish I hadn't volunteered to care for your incompetent, imbecilic self."

Ian told her he hated her out of spite, not meaning a single word of it. He remembered her hitting him so hard that he fell into the ground. He remembered running to his room. He remembered lighting the match, but the events afterwards was a blur. He remembered coming to his senses the next day. The first words he heard were, "You're aunt's dead, Mr. McCullough; you are in the hospital."

The doctors explained to him that the evidence appeared to look like his aunt tried to light him on fire and someone had switched the sprinkler systems' water with gasoline. When the fire escaped their house, it set the entire neighborhood on fire. Most of the families died before the firefighters arrived.

The whole duration of the story, Ian could hear laughter in the back of his mind. It's time to end this. He thought as he began to remove his IV and heart rate monitor. He propped a chair against the door knob and opened the window. He stood on the sill and looked down at the screaming women who rushed inside to get help.
He'd never felt more alive or free...happy. He heard the voice once again. "Gosh, you really shouldn't stand there if you aren't gonna jump." The voice said in a mocking tone. Ian ignored it and continued contemplating his current fate. If he died today, he would no longer have to worry about being a danger to others. But, in the same breath, if he dies today, he will have never had closure.

The voice was fed up with being ignored, so it began repeating "Jump!". Each time with a more aggressive tone of voice until it was just screaming. The force of the screams made Ian's brain feel like it was being stabbed over and over. He backed down from the sill and the voice laughed. "Pathetic." It said as it had finally silenced. Ian sat back in the hospital bed as the doctor pulled and twisted the door knob until the chair fell. He found Ian in bed absolutely traumatized. The doctor was panting from his journey as he began retaking Ian's vitals. Ian once again blacked out as the IV hit his bloodstream. All he dreamed about was the final moments before the fire.
*****
Ian grabbed $5 from his backpack and began walking to the gas station. He knew being in that house for too long was bad news for him. He went to the local 7/11 and bought a bad of munchies and a slushie.

As he approached the counter, he heard a familiar voice talking. Chance Black. He looked over his shoulder to see him peeking his scorched face into the freezer to get a beer. He thought he had died in the fire. Ian hurried and gave the cashier his money and ran out of the store. But before he could turn the street corner he heard his name.