Chapter Fourteen Ryan
Chapter Fourteen
Ryan
I stare down at the drawing I’ve just spent the last few hours working on. Like usual, I didn’t go in with a game plan, just did whatever felt right.
So why is a brown-haired beauty staring up at me? I drew her again. Why do I keep doing this?
Because you’re always thinking about her, the little voice in my head reminds me. Fine, maybe that’s true. But what does it mean? And what do I do about it? Should I do anything about it?
I rub my temples. No, I can’t.
I hear Grandma rummaging around in the kitchen.
Dinner wasn’t as awkward as it usually is.
We didn’t talk much, but we weren’t stiff with each other, either.
Maybe things will get better for us. And I can’t forget we’re going to the art museum this weekend.
I know my grandma only chose it because of my love of art.
Shutting my sketchpad, I go to the bathroom to take a shower and get ready for bed.
But before I do that, I stand before the mirror.
The guy staring back at me looks semi-decent.
My long hair is brushed back, eyes are still empty, but not as much as they were when I first moved here over a month ago.
There’s still pain in there, and I don’t think it’ll ever leave.
But there’s something different about me, something I can’t figure out. And I don’t want to. It’ll only make me examine my feelings and I’m worried what I might discover.
If I let myself be happy, I’ll forget them, which is the last thing I want.
I get in the shower, not letting my thoughts wander to that night, then brush my teeth and head back to my room. As soon as my head hits the pillow, I’m out cold.
***
The cries ring in my ears long before I turn the corner to my house. And the smell of smoke is so overwhelming it chokes my lungs.
I stop dead in my tracks as I stare at the blazing fire tearing through the house down the street.
My house.
I rush forward. A crowd is gathered around, watching the flames devour the house. I whirl around, searching for my parents, but I don’t see them anywhere. My heart lurches in my throat.
Are they still inside?
Firemen are at the scene, many have already charged in. But they can’t get to my parents. The flames are too intense.
I bound for the door, but one of the firemen grabs my arm, pulling me back. I try to yank free, but he’s got a tight hold.
“My parents are in there!”
“I know, son, but you can’t go in there.” He won’t let go, no matter how much I try to free myself.
My gaze shoots to the windows, where the flames whip around like they’re taunting me.
“Mom, Dad!” I yell frantically. The flames show no mercy as they continue to eat my house whole.
My eyes dart from one window to the other, hoping to find them ready to jump out or waving their arms for help. But there is nothing but flames. They’re so strong they singe my face, but I’m not paying attention to that. I need to find them.
Then I see them. My mom’s head sticking out from the tiny bathroom window. Dad’s arms are wrapped around her. “There!” I point. “They’re at the window!” It’s the only place where there are no flames.
Hope bubbles inside me. They have a chance.
Mom’s eyes find mine. I’ve never seen her look so terrified before in my life. I want to shout to her that they’re fine, they’ll be saved. But just as I open my mouth, an explosion rips through the house, destroying the bathroom window.
I fall to my knees. “No. No!”
The firemen and a few neighbors, rub my shoulders, muttering words that they think help. But I’m not listening to them.
I jump to my feet. “We have to go in there!”
I wrench myself from the fireman’s hold, but he seizes me by my shirt. He clutches my shoulders, looking into my eyes. “I’m very sorry for your loss, son.”
***
I shoot up in bed, my heart pounding in every inch of my body. My eyes flit all over as I try to remember where I am. Grandma’s house.
Mom and Dad are dead.
My body is covered in sweat, my heart still pounds, and I’m trembling all over. Letting out a deep breath, I slide my hands into my hair, tearing at the strands. Crap. Not again.
I shove my covers aside and shakily get to my feet and walk over to the window, pulling the shade up. Tears blur my vision, but I blink them away.
I’ve been having these dreams ever since the fire. I relive that night over and over.
I lightly bang my fist against the window. There’s so much I wish I could change about that night. If only I could have…
I squeeze my eyes shut. What’s the point of all the what-ifs? It’s not like it’ll bring my parents back.
After staring out at the black sky for a while, I find my way back to bed and drop down like dead weight.
Like all the other times, I can’t sleep. As soon as I shut my eyes, all I can see is the burning house. Mom’s head sticking out the window, eyes wide and petrified.
I remain lying awake for hours, my eyes not leaving the ceiling once.