Scar

Fear

After he continues to persuade me, I finally relent and climb into the back of the truck. Some men hop into the other vehicles as the cars engines go off, and despite the unfamiliar surroundings, I still had a sickening feeling in my stomach. The way it looked at me made my insides churn. I should've helped it. Stupid. I cant even look at it without failure.

I stared out the side about the entire time, one hand on my arm. Blood was noticeable, even through the black fabric. My train of thought was cut off entirely.

Sirens blasted in the distance and I knew something happened. The something that made my stomach drop and my mind go blank. The dog's ears perked up as the truck made it's way towards State Street.

"Get those search teams in there now! There's people still in there!" a firemen yells as the truck slackens in pace. We finally stop and I automatically jump out, running towards the burnt remains as tears sting my eyes, not even caring of my stinging arm. Firemen rush by with more hoses from a newly pulled up truck. Men rush to me and hold me back as I scream, struggling to get to my home.

"Its gone, son," a man says, "There's nothing you can do." I finally relent and fall to the ground, sobbing.

"H- ho..."

"I know, but theyre still in there looking for survivors. Just wait it out with not too much high hope, okay?"

Time passed for what seemed like forever. Firemen exited the burnt remains after poking around but still, no survivors. I was too numb to acknowledge everyone was gone. Too empty to feel anything anymore.

Nothing. Not even my dog. Bodies were entirely burnt and the fabric engulfed in the flames, so only ashes were scattered instead of limbs and or bodies.

I sit up next to the large tree in the center of my front yard, staring with my back towards the ash remnats I once tried and called home.

A group of men walk over to me. One of them takes off their hat and kneels down next to me.

"Are you a resident of this house?" he asks.

"I think so..." My eyes stay locked on the street gravel.

"I apologize for having such.. unfortunate news.."

"I know.. They're dead.. Dont even be sorry.."

"Hey, what's your name?" he smiles comfortingly towards me.

"James, I think.." I keep my head down.

"James, that's a nice name. My name's Loki."

"From Marvel?"

Loki chuckles. "Yeah, I know I know."

"So.. What.. Are they going to do with me..?" I ask, looking up in fear.

"Foster home, I guess. You're not eighteen, are you?" He cocks his eyebrow and I shake my head.

"Oh. Maybe you could come to my place once in a while. This is my number and address, call me whenever you need me, okay?" he smiles warmly, then after handing me a piece of paper written on for a few moments, hes summoned back to go through the ashes.

Why would he be so nice?

To add to my day of ups and mainly downs, a police officer walks by. Not just anyone, either. My actual father.