Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 114247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
As if on cue, Flame screamed out from behind me. My skin crawled in sympathy with the pain in the sound. I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath.
I turned round.
My breathing was rough as I stood still, knowing I was facing the man I thought of constantly. Then I flinched as another roar left his throat. I counted to three, then forced myself to open my eyes.
My back hit the door as I did so. My legs lost strength, and scalding tears sprung to my eyes. As I slumped to the floor, a pair of tortured black eyes seared through mine, and I whispered, “Flame… no…”
Chapter Eight
Flame
I couldn’t stop the flames.
Men had tied me down.
I couldn’t get to my blades.
And he was in here with me. Even with my eyes open, I could see him. I could see him in my mind's eye. I could hear his voice in my mind's ear. I couldn’t silence his voice. He called me sinner, cussing about the evil in my blood. But I didn’t know what he wanted from me. Didn’t want to remember that face when he shouted at me. Didn’t want to remember that cold dark place. Didn’t want to remember his belt lashing my skin. But I couldn’t get to my blades to stop the memories... to stop the memories fucking with my brain…
“He’s a fucking retard, Mary. He sits all day in his room, playing with that fucking Lego set. Building and building, never showing happiness or joy or any-fucking-thing! He doesn’t speak, doesn’t respond to anything I say. He doesn’t cry or laugh. Where's the fucking emotion?”
I cowered in the corner of the room, watching him scream at my mama. Her eyes were sad as she stared at me. But she didn’t cry. My mama never laughed or screamed or cried anymore.
“Michael,” she begged. “Please, just leave him alone. He’s just not like other kids. But he’s ours… he’s mine. I know he’s special. I can see it in how he thinks and behaves, but—”
“Special? He’s a damn retard!”
He was talking about me. He was angry with me, again. But I didn’t understand what I’d done to make him so mad? I tried. I always tried to make him happy. But it never worked. He just got madder. He just hurt me more and more. And I felt his disappoint deep inside me. I couldn't sleep, and all the worry made my hands shake. I… I was so confused. I didn’t mean to make him mad. I tried… I really, really tried.
He moved to the table where my mama was preparing food. He swiped out his arm and all the dishes crashed to the floor. I put my hands over my ears when my baby brother began to cry. I rocked on the floor, humming under my breath to block out the sounds. I hated the sound of screaming. It hurt my ears. It made my chest hurt and my stomach feel bad.
But my hands covering my ears couldn’t block out the sounds—the crashes, my baby brother’s screaming, his booming voice.
“I’ve spoken to Pastor Hughes. He believes the boy could have evil in his body. Hell’s flames could be flowing in his veins. That’s why he acts like that. Why he acts retarded.”
I stopped rocking and held out my arms. I turned them over to inspect my veins. But I couldn’t see any flames. My mind started to race. Evil? I had evil inside me? Flames ran in my veins?
Not wanting them inside me, I scratched at the veins in my wrist. I didn’t want flames inside me. Maybe by taking the flames out of my blood, he would like me? Maybe I’d get to know what he wanted from me?
Hearing the floorboard creak, I looked up. He had stepped forward. I stared at his face.
His skin had gotten paler. He and mama were both staring at me. Their eyes had gotten bigger. Mama’s hand had lifted to her mouth. But his face was red, his mouth was tight. Something was wrong, but I didn’t know what.
Without taking his eyes off me, he said, “You see, Mary? You see how he feels the fire under his skin? See how he claws to get the flames out? The Pastor has warned us all of this in church. He’s told us about the signs of evil in our kin.”
My fingers froze on my skin. I looked down and there was blood trickling from the vein. I felt my chest relax knowing that I’d let some of the flames escape. I lifted up my wrist to show him. To show him that the evil flames were leaving my body, just like he wanted.
But he stepped back, his mouth no longer tight. Instead his lips had parted. He turned to my mama. “I’m calling Pastor Hughes. I’m taking him straight to church.”
My hands stopped moving when he mentioned church. I didn’t like that place. I didn’t like the Pastor. I didn’t like the snakes they held. I didn’t like the drink that made their bodies thrash on the floor.
Mama ran forward and took hold of his arm. “Please, Michael. Leave him be. Or,” my mama took a deep breath, “or maybe we should take him to a doctor? Maybe this is more than we can understand? Maybe this time we should get a real doctor to help us… to help him.”
He stopped dead, and his eyes narrowed on my mama’s arm. “A doctor? You know our faith, Mary. You know we shun medical care. If we pray hard enough, if we’re pure and humble, God will heal… if not…” He pushed my mama back until she hit the table in the room. Mama cried out in pain, and my stomach rolled. He pointed in my face. “Then you end up like this. Riddled with sin and evil and retardation!”
I flinched and curled down on the floor. He scared me.
I watched him reach for the car keys. Then he walked toward me.