Fragile Fire

Chapter 1

They were dead and it was my fault.

How many people go through life just running through the motions? Running through the same schedule day by day not really paying attention to what they're doing. The people who are alive but not quite living. Breathing but not experiencing. Whether it's the fear of the unknown of the fear of the known. People are afraid. Not knowing is scary. For me scary is unthinkable. So I rely on the known. The things that can be proven. The sky is blue. Pi is 3.1415... and death is inevitable.

Death.

What is it really?

Is it funerals?

Or loss?

Or is it cold pale fingers that used to caress with a warm touch. The constant reminder that you'll never hear the small break in their voice when they laugh or the way their eyes crinkle when they make fun of you.

Is it the way every room they used to be in feels cold? The way your skin tingles, eyes begin to water, and your lip trembles at the mere memory of them.

For me it's all of them.

Every gentle touch, every memory, every twinkle in their eyes that brings forth a feeling of loneliness, an empty void in my heart.

Touching them now feels different.

Not bad. Not awful. Just different.

I don't feel the best emanating from them like a heater. I feel like I'm an oil lamp that's lost it's source for flame.

For heat

For hope.

Seeing their faces and knowing that they will no longer light up when they hear a joke or eat delicious food. It's hard.

Almost too hard.

So I question. Why? Why did the one thing I like take the three things I love. The one thing I can live without taking the three I can't. So I'm broken in a million tiny pieces.

Millions of razor sharp shrapnel of my life spewed on the cobble.

It seems easy enough to clean up the mess. Yet I can't.

For fear of hurting myself more than I already have.

I can't let anyone else either, for if you play with fire you get burned.

So I stand here.

ALONE

In front of the people I can't live without. With the one thing I can.

I pull off my glove slowly, carefully. Not wanting to disrupt the damaged flesh underneath. Turning my hand over I observe the damaged, pink, burned flesh. It no longer looks soft as the rest of me. It's scared and burned. Pulling my small box out of my pocket I feel my endorphins rising. I feel my excitement racing and my hands no longer disgust me.

They encourage me.

My eyes flicker to the white box.

The light from the burning match shines of my palm onto their headstones and I remember.

They're gone.

So I cry. For the emotional and physical pain. For the visible and invisible scars my body holds. For the marks that will forever stain my skin. So I hide them. With gloves.

I finally look at my palm to see the black burn on my skin and I smile. I lite another and another and another until the sun doesn't shine. When I hear a yell.

"Hello?" I turn around and come face to face with a flashlight held by a police officer. His eyes glance at my hands holding the match's and burns.

"Yes?" I squeak, shoving the matches into my pocket and my hand into my glove.

"Vanessa Mitchell," he says, "You're under arrest for the murders of Alexandra, Timothy, and Tobias Mitchell." My breath stalls and I can only think one thing.

Oh shit.

—

Author Note: As you can probably tell the MC Nessa has Pyromania; which is an impulse control disorder in which individuals repeatedly fail to resist impulses to deliberately start fires, in order to relieve tension or for instant gratification. The term pyromania comes from the Greek word πῦρ (pyr, fire). As well as slight depressive stages (self-harm).
—
I am in no way encouraging these behaviors. However if you or someone you love is involved in these behaviors please call any emergency service line or seek help immediately!
—
Tessa hasn't come forward about her pyromania or depression which is why she isn't being treated. Later on in the story I will try to involve her story with treatment for both or at least mention these. Once again, I AM NOT A PROFESSIONAL!!!! I will be using google, treatment websites and personal experience!
—
Also please do not self-diagnose! If you think you have depression or pyromania talk to your doctor or parents!
—
Thank you for reading so far and I hope you will enjoy the future chapters!