Phoenix Fire: From Witin the Flames

Asylum

Chapter 1

“Asylum...”

I’ve been trapped in this Asylum for 226 days or 5’424 hours or 325’440 minutes. 226 days without saying a single word, without seeing another human face, without interacting with another living, breathing human being. 869 days of scientific ‘research’, of shock theory, of burning things with my anger, of wishing I was never born, 1,095 days without seeing the outside world. Living life with the feeling of neglect and fear; numbers and words now my only friends. I guess it's better this way, living without being a threat to people, without burning down houses because of bad dreams, without killing another family member anyone.

1 meal a day, and that’s if they even remember, 1 tin of water. There’s no light left in my life anymore, it’s all bleak black, white and grey; all my tears have dried up long ago, along with my happiness.

The only happiness is him...

I never want to fall asleep again, to fall back into that deep black  pit of memories, but exhaustion will soon find a way to intertwine itself with me. I wish I could live without sleeping, without seeing that fear in people’s eye when they’d see my true form. When they’d throw stones at me, hit me, beat me, made me cry, made me bleed, made me mad, made me scream... made me unstable.

So unstable

 so unstable

 so unstable...

I’m not crazy; I’m not insane, not crazy, not insane, crazy, insane... I am so alone, I cry myself to sleep every night time I’m tired. I see those faces, I relive those memories. I see his face and my... my brother, my beloved brother he is alive he’s dead, I killed him it was an accident it was an accident an accident it was an accident. I didn’t mean to hurt him, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so sorry so sorry. I loved him and he loved me back, he was the only one who cared about me, the only one who gave a damn! And I killed him, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t want to hurt him... ever... but now he is dead and I am locked away.

I’ve burnt my whole concrete room black with ash soot. Smeared burnt hand prints across the wall, explosions of black and grey ash everywhere. But I do not want to get out, I do not want to hurt anyone anymore... all I’ve ever wanted was to be loved...

ﯯ¯ð

4 walls that see all, 2 eyes that are seal shut, 1 mouth that has not spoken for 227 days, 2 ears which hears screams every night, 1 nose which dreams to smell another fragrance other than a burning flame, 2 legs and 2 arms hold me together, with 2 hands that destroy everything. I’m a monster a monster a monster I am dangerous. Do not come near me, I burn things with just one touch. I am a monster....

Silence... the halls of the asylum are quiet once again. I pry open my eyes and carefully lift my head from my knees. I was curled up on what was left of my blanket. The edges frayed and singed, though I do not need it for warmth, I like to lay on it; so sleeping on the floor wasn’t as ... painful.

Three knocks; on the steel bolted door and steaming food was shoved into the room cell through the little slot at the bottom of the door on the ground. I do not eat yet, still trapped in my own thoughts.

I crawl over to the metal tray with the steaming bowl of greyish slosh. I pick up the metal spoon which should’ve burn my flesh if I were normal, but I do not burn, I am not normal. The spoon was hot in my weak grip but it didn’t bother me. I am the flame, the embers of the fire within the ash. I burn things. I sigh, stirring the slosh with the burning spoon; I abandon the spoon, leaving it sitting upright in the slosh; watching it as it slowly falls and clinks on the side of the white breakable bowl.

I look at my fingers, checking they were still there for no real reason, they're slightly glowing orange, like embers, in the shape of the spoon. I sit back on my haunches and stare at my hand, watching as the embers on my fingers fade slowly. This was why I’m unwanted; I’m a freak, a monster a... a thing... No one wants a Freak.

‘Fire Freak’ was what kids had chanted when they saw me, ‘Crazy Fire Girl’, ‘Pyromaniac’, ‘Pyro'; but I ignored their taunts, the names they use called me... but after my brother’s death, I started calling myself something different ‘Murderer’.

I... I’d murdered my brother, it was an accident; a bad dream had made me set light the house like a candle. My brother had tried to wake me... but it was too late. His burns were too serious to recover from... I’d killed the only friend... my only brother... the only one who cared for and about me.

I shake my head. Stop that! Stop thinking of the past! You are not crazy, you are crazy. You are not crazy. You are crazy. Shut up! I shake my head again, hard. My head starting throbbing, though it maybe because I shook it too fast and hard or it was because something bad is going to happen, I don’t know anymore and I don’t care.

I pick up the burning spoon again and quickly swallowed a mouthful of the scolding food, pacing myself; I haven’t eaten in 6 days 7 hours 27 minutes, 28 seconds... I count my time as it slowly ticks by. That’s how I know how long I’ve been locked up, trapped, imprisoned here. If I eat too fast I would throw it all up again and go hungry.

I curl up under the window in my fetal position, like I usually did, on my blanket, silently listening to the howl of the wind outside to glass barrier and the screams coming from down the corridor, wondering if I'm next. I busy my mind with words and numbers, counting up and down back and forth as if I would forget them if I didn’t recite them over and over and over again... I revise the alphabet and complicated words, favourite words, strong meaningful words like liberty, independence, autonomy, release... things I could not have which all meant 1 thing... freedom. Trying not to remember, remember, to remember the horror that is my life, and the pain and damage that I have caused. I shiver though I am not cold. I am not crazy

Not crazy. Not crazy. Not crazy...

I cry. Tears streak my face, as whimpers escape my lips. My body trembles from the memories

The memories the memories death

Death...

Of death, of hate, of my brother’s face, the only one who cared. The only one who gave a damn... my brother my dear sweet brother... his limp body in my arms in my arms... Dead. He is dead. I will never see him again. I killed him. Monster, monster, monster... I kill with the flames that are my hands, with the sorrow which burns within my heart.