Tortured

I feel the pain radiating from below me, a deep guttural cry rising with it. I know my time must be up. I stare up at the sky, wishing for death, at the same time knowing it was coming, and praying that it wouldn't. My mind flashes back to a similar scene. The memory returns, a haunting ghost that had come at last to punish my weak soul. I watch as my brother instead of I is burnt at the stake. I watch his clothes go to flame, smelt the stench of burning skin and flesh. This was where I had decided that pain and suffering was not the answer, where I'd decided to become a medic. This is where fire had become my only solace. I used to think that if I stared into fire long enough, I'd be able to see my brother again.

I close my eyes against the image from long ago but when I open them again, I was back into the present, where a fate just as terrible as my brothers lay before me. I hear the men scream not in fear, nor terror, but in joy. My brief solace from pain ends, the pain returning in full force, scaring my face, but only my face. They had dowsed me in flame retardant, all except my face, so that they could enjoy my pain longer. I open my mouth a scream ripping out of me. The cry of terror and pain was lost in the menagerie of laughter and drunken conversations. They don't even care enough to watch my fiery death. I snap. I feel something within me shatter, the pieces falling down inside me, piercing my sides. My head shoots up and the pain that had been pursuing me recedes into a distant, far away memory. I feel my insides swirl like smoke caught under a glass, and as I close my eyes, I feel an ancient tugging in the depths of my heart. I sense an undeniable pull to the flames, the smoke, the ash. The hate that I had just felt for the fire that burns me melts away. A thought seeps into my brains, slowly dripping into my thoughts, coloring my vision with red. I open my eyes ever so slowly, and look deep into the fire. My smile widens into a menacing grin. I let my thoughts roam free, letting years of suppressed anger, hate, and ill-will roar through my body like a forest fire. I seemingly will the fire up, up into the sky. It grows in size, roaring around me, a furnace of reds and golds. I open my mouth, and let the fire enter me, let it pour into every nook and cranny of my mind and body, illuminating dusty corners. I feel my grin widen, as I look over the crowd of spectators that didn't realize that I was in control of the furnace. A thrill shoots through me, elation melting any doubt in my mind.

"You are all cursed. You are all damned. You will pay, and you will pay dearly" I shout over the flames. Laughter fills the air. They will regret not listening to me. I open my mouth as if to warn them again, but instead I let the fire I had consumed pour out. The flames lick eagerly as they leave me, all except the ones that I keep for myself. The orange force scorches the men in front of me, then returns, almost playfully, waiting for the next person to hurt. I look over to the other spectators and see them running, crying in fear of their impending doom. I laugh as they had laughed, and send my fire everywhere, the tornado burning through every human in sight, until I catch sight of a baby. A small toddler, standing next to his burned mothers body. His tears stream freely down his chubby face. A tender spot in my heart makes itself known, and I rush to the child before the fire can reach him. But the child shys away from me. I stare, startled at the infant, his fear showing in his eyes. Why does he fear when I am here to save him. Why does he cry in terror when I try to help. I feel the tender spot flicker, but it does not go out. I grab the child, feel it squirm in my arms, but I hold on as the fire rages around me. When it's done I open my mouth, and let the fire roar into me, joining it's sister flame. I smile at the baby, now complacent in my arms, and mutter, all is fire, all is flame.