The Last Pyrokenetic

after the fire.

"She's waking up, the kid is waking up. Over."

I slowly blink my eyes, feeling my body twitch as it enters the lightest cycle of sleep, close to waking. The loud noise of the walkie-talkie shocks my heartbeat into action as I inhale sharply and sit up quickly. Looking around me, I first see a large man looking over me, glasses on his face to obscure his eyes from view. Looking around once more, I can sense something isn't right. Something is off.

"Where's my daddy?"

I ask the man, my deep brown eyes looking up innocently to look at his glasses. I was young and naive, still a child. I was eight. The longing tug I felt whenever my father wasn't around was present as my eyes darted around the room once more, anxiety starting to fill them. Ever since my mother passed, my father had to step into her shoes and fill the role of being a mother so naturally, I stuck beside him like glue.

"You're daddy, is...."

The man started to answer, his brow creasing as his hand rose to lower his glasses and looked into my eyes, a pitied look written all over his face.

"You're daddy had to leave. For a very long time because he is...sick."

He finally said, with a painfully regretful face. It was obvious he hated this part of the job, whenever the criminal had family who didn't know of their crimes. The tone and the pace of his words made it clear that this was a lie. And the fact that he had to lie to a little girl about her daddy, broke his heart. Adjusting his glasses to sit on the bridge of his nose once more, he cleared his throat and stood beside the little girl, offering her his hand.

"We have to go somewhere, and you have to come."

He said, monotonously, as the little girl took his hand and nodded, trusted him so easily with her life, with her fate.

Once I grabbed his hand, my eyes finally got to observe the room. It looked like the apocalypse had hit it. The wall was burned down to the ground and of broken glass littering the ground, furniture laying on sides. My eyes watered as my hand flew to cover my nose, the acrid smell of burned hair and flesh filling the air. The whole placed was covered in smoke and screamed the word, fire. I looked up to see the man with the glasses and walked with him to a car as he held my hand. Sitting in the back of a blacked out car, the man sat in the driver's seat and as I drifted off, he began to drive.