Animals ✔

Chapter 20

They brought me back to a different room.

Like the last room, it's completely white. Unlike the last room, the only piece of furniture is a small hospital bed with a metal frame and no blankets.

The walls and floor are also made of metal. I'm not sure why they would bother to paint them; maybe they thought it would feel more like being locked in a mental hospital this way.

There's no door knob on my side of the door and no windows either.

My head still pounds from the concussion, but whatever drugs they've pumped me full of started to wear off about an hour ago.

I'm still weak and lethargic, but my brain is a little less fuzzy and I've regained some control over my fine motor skills.

I can feel the heat now-just barely-but it's there.

Sitting on the bed, I wrap my arms around myself. I don't know why I'm here. Why haven't they drugged me again? What do they want from me?

It's not lost on me that the room I'm in is virtually fire-proof. I'm just not sure what that means, what they want from me.

Ira didn't give me many answers after telling me I'd never be able to kill myself.

I'd be lying if I said I've never thought about it before.

A long time ago, I made a promise to myself. I told myself that if he ever caught me, no matter what, I wouldn't give him what he wanted. And if there was no other way out, I promised I would kill myself.

But for the first time in years, I have something to live for. I have a life, a family, even friends.

I have something to fight for.

And if I can kill him, maybe I'll even get the chance to see my mother again. My brother. I close my eyes, picturing them as I remember. I wonder what they look like now.

The door clicks slowly open and I stand, clenching my fingers into fists and reaching for the heat.

I'll light them up like a match, and then I'll run. It's the best option I've got.

And even if I don't make it out, at least I'll have cost them one of their own. No more playing games.

I feel the fire in my veins. It's still a bit off, not quite reflective of my fury, but it's enough. I raise my fists as the door opens further, spreading out my hands and watching the fireballs flicker above them.

I pull one hand back, preparing to launch the fireball at their head the moment I see their face.

And I would have, if the person opening the door hadn't made the fireballs splutter out on the tips of my fingers.

My hands fall harmlessly to my sides, and I can't seem to find my voice. I want to run to him, wrap my arms around him and thank him for coming for me. But I don't do any of that. The look on his face says it all.

He isn't here to save me.

"Jon?" I hate the sound of my own voice. Broken.

The door closes firmly behind him and then it's just the two of us, no way out.

His face is expressionless. I've never seen his brown eyes so empty.

Jon steps toward me but stops just as quickly, as a shield of heat springs up around me. "C'mon, Claire-bear. Don't be like that."