Playing With Fire

Chapter 4

"What's going on down here, Dove?", He asks in that cold voice of his.

In my spur of complete recklessness, I whisper, "Jeremy... i-is that really you?".

The hood covering the man's face, but the stillness that quickly spreads over his body, is answer enough.

I break into tears as the dreadful burned man, that I now assume is my brother, comes out of his stupor and stalks towards me.

"You have no right to speak to me!" he shouts, anger and unimaginable pain filling his voice.

He's so close to me that I can see his eyes, which are usually hidden beneath his hood. Though I had expected it, the shocking blue of my kind older brother's eyes glaring at me with complete hatred, leaves me unable to form the questions I wish to ask him.

Why have you done this to me? What am I doing here, locked in this basement?, and most of all, Why do you hate me so?

Each question is on the tip of my tongue, but the deep rooted loathing filling his eyes keeps them at bay. What I say instead is, "How are you here? I thought you died in that fire. Everyone did."

The roar of fury that leaves his mangled throat is one that could rival that of a lions. The slap across my face echoes the shock that I feel after his outburst.

"You have no right," he repeats with venom in his voice, "to speak to me. No after what you've done."

"W-what?", I choke out in a pain filled gasp.

The second slap I feel across the opposite cheek I had expected, though the pain only magnified.

"YOU DID THIS TO ME!'', he shouts, spit landing on my face. I hide my cringe, and instead express my utter confusion.

"Jeremy, I have mourned your death, along with our parents. We buried an empty casket... we thought your body had been reduced to unrecognizable ashes. If we had known...", my voice trails off as a sob racks my body.

"You saw me lying there, burning. You did nothing, even though it had been you who knocked over the candle. Momma and Pappa would still be here if it wasn't for you. I wouldn't be a monster, if it wasn't for you.", he says this time in a furious whisper that chills me to the bone. I realized I prefered his shouts, to this deadly cold voice.

Before I have a chance to reply, the sudden pounding of steps as people burst into the room, leaves me speechless.

I hear the faint chorus of shouts saying, "N.Y.P.D., put your hands up!" The rest is a blur as my restraints are undone, and I'm lifted out of the chair I had been bound to.

I frantically look around, though my brother is nowhere to be found. He must have already been taken away, without my realizing.

The adrenaline that had been keeping me awake, for the duration of my conversation with my presumed dead brother, left me, and with it went my ability to remain conscious.

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