Smoke

40: Burn

I stared up at the ceiling of my room, smiling. My bed was soft underneath my body, warm compared to the air in the room. I felt good for the first time in a while. Feeling my heartbeat shaking through my body, hearing my steady breaths, I became aware of the smoke in me, of the fire. But it wasn't as scary now that I had confided in someone. I was calmer than usual.

Remembering the relief upon telling Oliver my power, I wondered how I would feel if I could actually control it.

I sat up, the air pulling around me. I had practiced using the smoke in here, and that hadn't turned out too bad. Maybe, I thought, using the fire wouldn't turn out too bad, either. I moved myself to sit comfortably in the middle of the bed.

My stomach swirled nervously as I let out thin streams of smoke. They puffed and curled through the air, up, dissipating. It was thick and white as it first left me. The darker it got, the more nervous I got, the more unsure I was. I might've not thought this completely through.

When I saw the fire, my body flashed cold, then hot again. I could feel a tingle in my fingers, a heat in my dry breaths. It was hot in my mouth and bright in my eyes. A faint yellow-orange fire, but the light glaring and making sunspots in my eyes. I started to calm down, focused on just breathing, but as I did, the fire got bigger. It licked up out of my mouth like in those pictures. I was like a dragon.

I laughed quickly, nervously. I was doing it. The fire was bright to look at and hurt my eyes, and the smoke burned my nose when I breathed in the heat, but I was managing to do something more than just glimpse at the fire.

My heart was fast and my breaths were shallow, and I felt the smoke and fire pulling air out of me, out of the room, but I was doing it, and it was exciting.

I smiled with my mouth still open, flames still flickering at thickened air. But I saw my hair dip down by my face. My body flushed cold and I pulled it back with my hand. I could feel the heat against my skin as I ran my hand through the flame, catching my hair before it caught on fire. I flinched, breathing in air harshly, feeling the numbing heat against my hand. I took my hand away from my hair, safely pulled back behind me, and looked down at it through the waving air, through the fire from my open mouth.

My heart beat faster as the flames licked out again, singeing my bed's blanket. I watched, clasping my burnt hand with my other, as it caught on fire. A dull glow formed on the bed, then a bigger flame, orange and hot. I pulled myself away, leaning back, heart beating fast, hand stinging.

Tumbling off the bed, feeling a coldness run through my body, I quickly closed my mouth, feeling the flames against my throat until they went back into my stomach. I whipped off my blanket and threw it on the ground, throat dry. I stomped it harshly against the ground, trying not to burn my feet and trying not to set fire to the house. The fire pulled up and around my foot when I did, expanding quickly and going back down into small curls of heat.

After many tries, it dimmed into a smolder, with dark and opaque smoke coming up from it. My heart was racing and my body was hot and numb, except for my hand which stung in pain.

I heard my breaths in the silent room, felt the smoke I breathed through.
"Mom!" I yelled, voice dry and weak but still carrying. She came into my room a few seconds later, looking concerned when she saw my face.

"What happened?" She asked, stepping further into the room. Then she looked down at the blanket. "Are you okay?" She asked quickly, glancing back up to me then the blanket. Before I could respond she picked it up, careful not to burn herself. I followed her as she carried it to our backyard, as she ran to get the fire extinguisher, as the fire was killed with a quick blast of loud, white cold.

Then she turned to me and again asked if I was okay.

"I..." I started, holding up my hand. It was red and shaking, was hot and stinging.

"Oh my god." She said, lightly touching it then pulling away. "Come here." She said, pulling me gently back inside with one hand, holding the fire extinguisher with the other.

Words formed and erased themselves in my head as I stood, watching her lead us to the kitchen sink, as she ran my hand under cold water, as she put aloe on my hand, as she put a bandage on it. I still felt the sting when she was done.

"What happened?" She asked again, looking at me. I couldn't meet her eyes. The power was too similar to dad's and she would be mad. I was too ashamed of the power to admit what it was. I no longer felt balanced, no longer felt in control or proud or ready to learn. I kept my eyes on my red and raw hand, luckily the one I don't write with, and closed my eyes. I shook my head, shrugged, not ready to talk.

"Maybe light got magnified..." Mom later wondered, trying to piece together what happened, what had caused it.

I shrugged. "Yeah, I think so." I lied, my voice light and weak. I was done with this power. I had always been afraid of it, had always been ashamed of it, and now I knew why. It couldn't do any good for me, could only cause harm, and I didn't want that.