Smoke

44: Dread

A few weeks later, I was sitting in Skill Management. I had been feeling constantly nervous, constantly scared that I would use my power for too long and have the fire come up and burn something or someone.
I looked down at my hand. The burn was gone, back to normal, but I remembered how it had stung, how red it was.

Elinora looked at me, and I looked back up, accidentally meeting her eyes. I quickly turned my head down to my books. I was still analyzing them, but wasn't trying to apply them to my own life. There would be no point; I wasn't planning on using my power outside of theater, wasn't planning on using it at all. The play was coming up, though, and I would have to use this power soon--

"Cecil." My eyes flicked back to hers. She motioned for me to walk up to her. I did, scooting my chair out, hearing it rub against the dusty floor, hearing my footsteps against the ground, the flicking pages of everyone else, not caring even though I was convinced they did.

"Yes?" I asked, voice almost a whisper. I could feel a nervousness in my stomach as I spoke, and she nodded.

She motioned again for me to follow her as she led us out to the hallway. I heard the increasing silence around us as we went, as we stood outside the door.

"Are you alright, Cecil? These past few weeks, I've felt a bit of an imbalance in you. And you seem..." Elinora trailed off, waiting for a response from me, a reaction. I shook my head.
"I'm fine." I replied, ignoring the feeling in my stomach when I said it. But she was expecting me to say something else; she was waiting for more from me.

"But, uh, how do I..." I paused, trying to think of something to say. She couldn't know why I was feeling like this. No one could. So, I thought, feeling a twinge in my stomach as I opened my mouth to speak again, I might as well get something out of it. "How do I control when it stops and starts? The..." The fire and... "the smoke." I finished, looking up at her. She looked back at me thoughtfully, hopefully convinced that only that was what I was worried about.

"Well," she started, "visualization works well for most of my students. Just picture what you want to have happen." She said, and I nodded. "But you have to believe it'll happen or it won't work." She said.

"Okay. Thank you, Elinora." I said, thinking. Maybe if what she suggested was true, maybe if would work. But, as I went back into the classroom, sitting back down at my desk, those thoughts wore off. No way would it work. It's just wishful thinking.

I looked down at the stack of books on my desk. My eyes trailed to a spot, the fire-breathing book, and my stomach lurched. I opened it, looking at the pictures.

All I saw now were people probably injuring themselves with the fire, the smoke. Their burns, their lungs breathing in the heat. All I felt now was discomfort, was a feeling of dread, when I looked at the pictures.

I looked away, closing the book, waiting for class to end so I could leave.