Finding Mr. Superhero

Chapter Twenty-Six

In that moment, time had never moved so slowly.

For a moment, I swear I knew what it felt like to be Colton. The way he moved at super-speed. His body moved at the right time, but the world around him slowed. In the space of one second, I had time to reflect on everything.

Sam's groan in the next room. The flicker of the match in Nathaniel's hand. The stench of gasoline doused on the floor. The sound of horns and sirens in the distance. The stars above me. Colton's feet beside me as he stood looking at Nathaniel.

And finally, me. It was as if I was in my body and out of it at the same time—like astral projection, almost. I saw me as if from above, lying there. My face covered in sweat and grime and blood from a cut in my forehead. An inch-long cut along the side of my throat, clotted with dark blood. My body lay in an odd position, my head lulled to the side and an empty look in my eyes.

My fingers crept along the soft fabric of my shirt and then reached a thick, wet stain. Another lash of pain ricocheted through me, but it was as if I couldn't even scream in pain. As if my voice box had closed. My fingers dipped into the gash. It was long. Long and deep. There was too much blood. I was no doctor—but I'd read books and TV shows. I recognised the pain and the fuzzy feeling in my head.

There was simply too much blood.

It was cathartic, I supposed. Almost Shakespearean. I would die to save the life of a boy who spent his saving others. It wasn't a bad way to die. If I were to elect a way to die, it would be this way.

I lifted my hands up with the leftover strength I had. My entire hand was covered in thick, red blood. My wrists were encircled by pale blood and peeling skin. I was no pretty sight, but neither was death.

I saw it happen. As if in slow-motion.

I watched the match fall from Nathaniel's hand and drop, flipping end-to-end as it fell. And then it hit the ground. It immediately lit up. Thin lines of gasoline snaked through the warehouse floor, and they lit up like a maze of fire.

And I knew it then. I knew it like I knew the sky was blue and the grass was green. I knew it the way I knew I loved Colton. I knew it deep in my bones; doubtlessly.

I was going to die.

It's an odd feeling, knowing that. Everyone worries they're going to die, but what happens when you're suddenly faced with the reality? The room was on fire, I had been stabbed, and a thick pool of blood was beginning to surround me like a grotesque snow angel.

But the pain was lessening with each millisecond. The agony had become a distant throbbing. My eyes were heavy, as if weighed down with lead weights. My body was completely limp. Everything felt better.

The fire was so bright, I had to squint. But it was so, so beautiful. It was like when my parents used to drive me around the neighborhood at Christmastime. I would stare at the twinkling fairy lights in wonder. They were so bright and so beautiful.

I could no longer see the broken wall that Sam had been thrown through. I couldn't even see Nathaniel. I heard a distant crash—a door, perhaps. The fire roared—I didn't know fire sounded like anything, but it sounded like a deafening gust of wind blowing through the warehouse.

Colton was by my side, his arms slipping around me. He moved me slightly, and I felt my body ricochet with pain. My body convulsed as if being remotely controlled.

"Don't," I whispered. My voice rasped like someone had run sandpaper along my vocal chords. My throat was dry and the air was so hot, I could feel sweat mixing with blood. "Colton, don't."