18. Horrifically Fateful Day
18
Horrifically Fateful Day
E very Sunday after lunch, Eira and her parents walked the city. It was their little family ritual that they had started, and they’d always stop in a shop they hadn’t gone to before for a little sweet treat before they’d turn back around.
She couldn’t tell you how their ritual had begun in the first place, only that Sunday was their favorite day, and they looked forward to it all week.
“See anything that looks good, ladies?” her father asked them when they had journeyed as far as they had gone before.
Her mother, Lysandra, only smiled at her daughter to see what she thought. “Eira?”
A young Eira looked around at all the shops, but they all looked quite familiar. “I think we’ve been to them all.”
“I think you’re quite right, honey,” her father, Sato, agreed. “A bit farther, then.”
Eira could sense the bit of hesitation in her mother, but she reluctantly agreed with her husband to go a bit farther.
They walked only a few streets over, trying to find a good-looking shop filled with treats to Eira’s liking, when it became obvious they might have strayed too far.
“I think we should go back now,” Sato mentioned when they witnessed a man lighting a trash can on fire.
“Yes.” Lysandra quickly nodded in agreement when the man caught sight of them and gave them a distasteful look. It was obvious the man didn’t approve of the different-looking family, so she held on to her daughter’s hand tighter as they turned back around.
Getting the idea she should be fearful, Eira noticed a different man on the sidewalk who was covered in a dirty blanket. She had only passed him moments ago and didn’t think anything of him, but now she saw her surroundings in a different light since she was no longer concerned about looking in the different shops.
When she stepped closer to her mother to avoid him, the action made her mother, who was between them, move closer to her husband.
Time seemed to slow when the man with the gasoline tank must’ve rushed up behind them to cut them off. Not knowing exactly what he would do, it was certain the last thing any of them ever expected was for him to pour the contents of the tank all over her father, and then it was simply too late.
With them being so close together, a lot of the gasoline also splashed on Lysandra, and some of it splashed on Eira's face, along with the hand that held her mother’s.
The flash of a lighter that flipped to life before it was thrown onto her father felt like time moving so slowly, and yet there was simply nothing you could do about it. When you were already dunked in fluid, there was nothing to do except kill yourself faster.
That vile man only held their life in his hands for a single moment before he tossed them away no differently than the pile of trash in a can.
All Eira could do was scream in horror as she watched her father burn in a fiery blaze before she watched her mother, and then finally herself. Her horrific screams were not only from the physical pain but the pain of watching her parents die, and it was all she could do before a blanket was cocooned around her.
She would later come to find out that it had been the homeless man who had thrown his only blanket over her, and by the time he could put out Eira’s fire and do the same for her mother, it would be too late—the burns had covered too much of Mom’s body while it was rendered completely useless to even try the life-saving method on her father.
At only fourteen, she would never forget the smell of gasoline right before the smell of not only her own burning flesh but her dying parents'. And, for the next year, Eira would often sit in her hospital bed, wondering who got the worst fate of them all …
Was it her father, who had died after a few agonizing minutes but eventually felt the sweet relief of death? Or her mother, who wouldn’t die until hours later at the hospital? Or was it her, who would undergo so many treatments just to be scarred for life anyway, along with the constant memory of that horrifically fateful day.