Pyro

Chapter 2

I hugged my knees to my chest and pulled the covers over my body. What little warmth they injected in me did nothing to soothe the weight in my chest. The immovable, ever-growing weight that refused to grow lighter. The weight that burdened me like nothing else I'd ever felt.

They said it would go away with time. That with 'therapy' and 'time' and 'help' I could deal with my trauma.

I wanted to laugh. I didn't need 'time' or 'therapy' or 'help.'

I needed Rebecca.

I sat up in my bed, reclining in the mass of pillows behind me. I stared into the darkness of my room, unwilling to move. Every drop of blood in my body dragged my torpid limbs down.

Rebecca should be here. Not me, I thought wretchedly, choking on my misery. Tears would've run down my face, but I was all tapped out. Every tear had been shed, salt had coated my lips, and my eyes had dried out long ago. I blinked, pain poking the back of my eyes, but I didn't care.

The sheets creased under my shifting weight as I rolled over and blindly fumbled for the remote. Television would distract me. If I lingered in my labyrinth-like mind, tenebrous in nature and full of countless twists and turns of possible paths that the future could've taken, I'd go mad.

Cool metal met my fingertips and I clicked the power button.

The television flickered to life. And of course, the news began to blare.

"Last week, high school senior Rebecca Hayes was murdered right beside a downtown club frequented by local teenagers. Another high school senior, Henry Jacobs, heir to billion-dollar company Jacobs Incorporated, managed to escape with only minor bruises and injuries." 

The prim woman in the ritzy suit pointed to a picture in the upper right corner that displayed the club covered in yellow police tape. "Despite the fact that renowned hero Invisibilis had come to their aid, one of the two assailants possessed an ability to control short-term memory. According to Invisibilis, the attacker erased any trace of him in his memories, leaving Invisibilis to believe there was only one perpetrator."

"Except for my memory," I spat, lowering the volume of the television. Invisibilis and Rebecca had been influenced to forget the bastard had been there in the first place. Only I had remembered him. And I'd been too laggard to do anything about it at the time.

"Police have yet to locate the suspect responsible for Rebecca Hayes's death," she continued.

"Call him what he is!" I screeched. "A murderer! A damn murderer!" My fingers twitched reflexively, but I quelled the fire that roared-begged-for release. If I set the exorbitant flat screen on fire for a third time, my parent's patience would waver.

"-but the police do have one man in custody: Samuel 'Sam' Yates. He is known for his work in a human trafficking group called the Traders. Sam Yates particularly specializes in the acquisition of upper-class citizens with high-class powers to sell on the black market. He is to be tried for several counts of kidnapping and murder."

I wrapped my arms around myself, staring at the images on the screen. 

Sam was receiving justice. 

Solace should've eased my pain, but his worthless, scummy, partner had ran away.

That scum got to live another day out in the streets and a lifeless Rebecca was confined to a box.

Her gray eyes, empty and devoid of life, haunted my mind. Her eyes, once a revolving gloomy storm, had been my crepuscular pockets of sunlight in an endless expanse of dark forest. They used to sparkled in the sun and glow on downcast days.