Pandemonium

Stage Ten Part II

"Wake up, Hendrix!" I feel a hand on my shoulder, lightly shaking me awake, and open my eyes to see my mother staring down at me. I feel an intense remorse, guilt, and combination of terrible emotions. I don't understand why but I can't seem to remember the dream I've woken up from. I take one good look at her and start crying. My body moves on its own and hugs her. It feels as if I haven't seen her in such a long time. 

"Mom," I sob into her shoulder and feel the warmth of her arms around me. She holds me close, patting my back lightly, and soothes the aching of my heart. 

"It's okay, sweetie, it was all just a bad dream. I promise. Nothing is going to hurt you," her voice is soft, calming me instantly by just hearing it. I smile and look up at her. She smiles back at me. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asks. 

"I don't remember what it was about..." I confess. 

"Well, if you're up already, you might as well help me with breakfast," she laughs and stands up. I follow her down the stairs and into the kitchen. She gives me orders, like she usually does, telling me to set the table and do other small things to assist her. I happily oblige. 

"You have to set the table for three, dear," she reminds me. I look down at the table and then up at her, confused. "Claude." 

"Oh, right," I mutter and go to get another set of silverware before I get the plate. I frown, wishing I could go back to pretending he wasn't real. 

My step-father walks into the kitchen. We don't have a real dining area outside of the small table in here so he sits down with his paper and goes to grab a cup that isn't there. "Where is my coffee, woman?" he sneers. My mother flinches but her smile remains. 

"I'm sorry, I haven't made it yet," she apologizes, fumbling over her hands to grab the coffee pot. 

"Can't you do anything right?" 

"You could make your own coffee," I mutter under my breath before sitting down. 

"What was that?" he slams his paper down on the table and stares right at me. 

"I didn't say anything," I place my chin on my hand and rest my elbow against the table. I look at my mom instead of him. I wish he would just leave her alone. 

"Don't lie to me, boy," he growls at me.

"Now, now," my mom tries to interfere. "I'm making the coffee so there is no need to get upset." 

He slams his hand down on the table and stands up. My entire body tenses as I turn my head. He moves towards her and raises his hand. I stand up, trying to move between them, but it's too late. The sound of the skin hitting skin rests on my ears. I watch my mom lift her hand to her cheek, tears slowly streaming down. 

"You should've died with your husband instead of dragging me into this marriage. You're worthless, can't even make a cup of coffee in the morning." 

"Please don't talk about him like that," she sniffles, trying very hard not to continue crying. "He was your brother as well as my husband. Please don't talk about him like that." 

I move to stand in between him and my mother. "If you want anyone to blame it should be yourself. No one asked you to force her into a marriage she didn't want!" I snapped at him. I should've just remained quiet. I can see the anger in him only getting worse. He is going to act out again. 

There is a knock on the door and his anger slips away momentarily. I go to see who it is and find Hector there. He smiles, waving at me, and walks in. "Are you ready for our date today?" he grins, instantly healing what bad feelings I've experienced so far with a single smile. 

"I still have to eat breakfast and get dressed," I laugh a bit and scratch the back of my neck. 

"I thought I told you to set an alarm!" he huffed, placing his hands on his hips. He follows me into the kitchen and smiles at my mother, waving at Claude just to be polite. 

"Why is your friend here so early in the morning," Claude sighs, bringing his hand to temple. 

"Hector is his boyfriend," my mom corrects him. "They made plans weeks ago, don't you remember? It's Hendrix's birthday," she frowns slightly. 

"Shut up!" he snaps. He moves his hand to slap whatever is on the counter off of it but instead hits the candle. My mom likes to have a candle burning as she cooks. She believes the positive scents will be infused with her cooking, making everyone happier, but the candle falls to the ground. The jar cracks and the candle inside rolls over to her feet. The fire flickers high and lights the base of her dress. She screams, trying to smack it off, but it only makes it worse. 

"What are you doing?!" I yell at him. "Don't just stand there get some water!" I say, trying to help her stop the flame. He doesn't. He just stands there, smirking, crossing his arms watching the scene. 

The fire catches my sleeve and I try to smack it out but I can't. It's engulfed us both now, and some of the counter. Hector moves to me, trying to help me, and fails. My mother coughs from the smoke filling the room. She fills a glass with water and tries to splash it on me before herself. The fire flickers but continues to burn. I decide to try and take off my shirt instead, running it under the water, and then slap my mother's skirt with that. 

Somehow we both manage to stop the flames on our clothes but the flame in the kitchen grew too much. It's trapping us inside, with Claude staring at us from the doorway. He leaves down the hallway, letting us burn. 

"Water! Water!" I say, turning on the sink trying to splash the flames. We all try our best but it's not going to help. There is too much smoke now. 

"It's no use," she starts crying.

"We're going to die," Hector shakes, grabbing my arm. My mother pulls us both into a hug. 

"It's going to be okay. I'm sure someone will call the fire department. We're going to make it out of this. Don't panic. You'll use up all our air." She tries to comfort us but I know she is wrong. Claude did this. He would never call for help. 

"I love you both," I cry, hugging them back. "I'm so sorry." 

A faint laugh rests on my ears and a pink image shows itself in the flames. "Don't you think you've got it all wrong there, Hendrix?" it asks me. This voice is familiar but I can't place it. 

"What? What do you mean? Who are you?" 

"Why are you afraid that you're going to die?" Arms reach out of the flames. Long pink nails rest on my cheeks but the face is indistinguishable. "Don't you know? You're already-" One gust of flames surrounds the arms and they disappear. 

"I'm already what?" I ask, coughing from the smoke. "I'm already...what...?" I repeat, closing my eyes as the smoke surrounds me more fully. I can't breath. I can't see. Just darkness and a sickening scent.