Chapter Seven
The smell of burning flesh seeps into my deepest being, hungrily ripping at my lungs.
My burning eyes are wide open, scanning, searching for something.
But a black, sticky fog surrounds me, tightening around my chest with each heavy breath I take.
I urgently scoot forward, keeping my arms stretched out, unable to see the path in front of me.
Heat stabs and tears at my skin as I walk through the thick smoke.
Without warning, my hands crash into an unseen surface.
It’s not a wall, but an intangible barrier that feels like an open space, blocking me from passing through.
The dense air around me hums with a strange energy, and I sense that whatever lies beyond this barrier is urgent and vital.
Desperation swells through my veins as I lean into it, pushing with every ounce of my body weight.
I can feel the resistance pressing back against me, solid yet elusive.
Panic grows like cancer against my nerves.
I pound against the surface repeatedly, my palms stinging with each impact, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
A faint cry comes from the other side, and I freeze, straining to listen closely.
For a moment, all I can hear is the crackling of the fire.
Then, another sound breaks through—a sob that lingers in the air, yet falls short.
I wave my hands in front of me, attempting to clear the fog that clouds my vision.
As I dig into my eyes to sharpen my focus, the sting begins to dissipate.
When I finally reopen them, the air ahead appears clearer.
I glance around, observing the relentless destruction brought on by the fire and smoke.
Lifting my hands to feel my way, I encounter the familiar, transparent barrier, but I notice movement just beyond it.
I squint, trying to hone in on the figure that suddenly materializes just a few feet away.
My eyes widen in realization—it’s my mom.
My heart thuds hard in my chest as I dig my fingers into the invisible wall keeping me from her. She has her back turned to me, her head slightly tilted down. I go to speak as a burning lump forms in my throat. “Mom…are you okay? I’m…I’m here…I made it.” I keep my eyes on her backside.
A strange sound comes from her, almost like a painful gasp.
“You’re too late, Ezra.” Her voice is clear and emotionless.
My heart sinks. I push and bang, trying to break through the barrier.
Her shoulders jerk, causing me to freeze.
She then slowly turns around, her breaths uneven and short.
My mouth drops open at the sight of her.
One side of her face is melted and burned, her jaw exposed, while muscle and flesh protrude through where the skin is missing.
My whole body is shaking as I take in what is left of my beautiful mother. My eyes move down, realizing what she is holding in her hands. Pancakes—the same pancakes from my 16th birthday. “Why did you let me die?” she whimpers out.
I shake my head in horror. “Mom, no, I…I’m here. But I can’t...get to you.. See?” I quickly bang my hands and throw myself towards the barrier as hard as I can.
She shakes her head at an unnerving speed. “YOU DID THIS…YOU DID THIS!” she screams over and over. My hands fly into my hair as I press my palms over my ears, trying to block out her painful cries.
I squeeze my eyes shut and drop to my knees, gripping my hair tightly as I feel thick strands rip from my scalp.
Her cries grow louder, making my eardrums throb.
Suddenly, a loud popping noise breaks the air, and her wailing stops abruptly.
I jerk my head back up and open my eyes.
A trail of burning red fire circles around her, trapping her within it.
She stands motionless, her blueish-green eyes looking through me.
My jaw clicks as I watch the fire trail up her legs; she doesn’t move or react.
There’s a haunting gleam in her eye that makes my gut churn.
I draw my right fist back and throw every bit of power I have into the invisible shield—the sound of bones cracking and popping as I punch over and over.
A loud yell protrudes from my mouth, filled with anguish and fear.
She crumbles to the floor, her stare still on me as her body quickly turns to ash while it travels up her brittle body.
“NOOOO!” I plead. Out of nowhere, something moves to the right of where my mom lies.
I squint my tear-soaked eyes, blinking away the tears.
A tall, dark figure stands in the corner, its form resembling that of a large man.
The only thing visible is the glowing, reddish-orange eyes.
I turn my eyes back to Mom, who is now nothing but bone and ash.
From the corner of my eye, the figure inhumanely jerks its head, and a demonic laughter stings the air.
“You are next, boy. You’ll burn in hell, too,” the figure growls.
A hot sensation strikes my heart. I slam my hand into my chest, digging my fingers into my skin.
It moves at a rapid speed, and the feel of hot lava dissolves my insides.
I clench my teeth together, trying to control the growing pain.
Every nerve in my body ignites like a lit match.
I lift my arms in front of me to see there’s a red glow under my skin.
My breathing turns into pants as I battle the agony growing around me.
My hands shake profusely in front of me, and my fingers become distorted as fire shoots from my fingertips.
I’m burning alive from the inside out. My head falls back as I accept my fate.
Fire travels up my throat, forcing my mouth to fly open.
I cry out as everything around me turns to flames.
I wake up gasping for air, my throat feeling dry and sore while my body is engulfed in an intense heat.
Sweat trickles down the side of my face, stinging my eyes and blurring my vision.
I grasp the damp sheet tightly, trying to catch my breath, but the heat continues to sear my sensitive skin.
Without wasting another moment, I stumble out of bed and head to the bathroom, ready to shock my body with a blast of ice-cold water.
Once I’m out of the shower, I re-bandage my side; the recent burns are healing decently, considering.
I make myself a large cup of coffee and sit down in the living room, turning the lamp on beside the couch.
It’s just shortly after seven in the morning, and it’s still dark outside.
I sit for a moment in silence, running my hand through my wet hair and trying to decipher the nightmare I just had.
They’re different each time, but very much similar in ways.
Sometimes my uncle Jesse appears in my nightmares alongside my mom, but most of the time, the focus is solely on her.
Each dream seems to end with someone burning alive, and just before I wake up, a dark figure emerges, lurking in the shadows and fixating on me.
After all these years of night terrors, that figure has never shown its face.
My thoughts often drift to my father, even though there is no evidence that anyone started the fire; I’m still haunted by it.
So much so, that I’ve outfitted the entire property with cameras, including the bar.
Maybe my paranoia is getting the better of me.
I can’t help but wonder whether the strange figure in my dreams is something I’ve conjured up in my mind or is a representation of my father.
Either way, I refuse to take any chances.
Many nights over the years, I’ve woken up to see a dark shape outside my bedroom door or heard sounds that hinted someone was lurking nearby.
Yet every time, there’s nothing in the surveillance footage.
The night that man left on my 13th birthday, he left behind a deep-seated fear in me I still can’t shake.
He doesn’t exist in Mavesdale or anywhere else that I know of.
When the house burned down, he was named as the owner on the deed, yet they were unable to locate him.
So as his heir, I was left with the burden, but at just sixteen, I felt powerless to act.
By the time I turned eighteen, Eric stepped in to help me sell the land and the remnants of the property to a developer.
I wanted to sever all ties with that place.
Starting anew was challenging enough, especially having to live with Eric and the twins just two streets away from my past nightmare.
Despite all the tragedies woven through my life, they didn’t leave me in a financial bind.
Between the proceeds from the house and my uncle’s belongings, I managed.
I had no idea he left everything to my mom and me in his will.
While it caught me off guard, it strangely made sense, considering he was always there for us and had no kids of his own. We were his family.
Just a couple of months after turning eighteen, I moved into the mountains to my uncle’s cabin.
It was nice to get away from that neighborhood in some ways, but for a long time, I felt like I was invading his space, even though he was gone.
Because of that, I left his bedroom untouched and turned the guest bedroom into my own.
I’ve made changes throughout the house, but I refuse to go into his room.
Maybe someday that’ll change, but considering it’s been nearly nine years, I highly doubt it.
It’s peaceful here. I’ve always loved this cabin and its location.
The nearest neighbor is about half a mile down the mountain.
I’ve gotten used to being alone here, except for the occasional visits from the twins and their dad.
Girls I’ve slept with over the years were never allowed here; I either went to their place or booked a hotel room for a night in town.
It was always clear what I wanted, and they agreed it would just be a good time with no strings attached.
I don’t date or get involved in relationships. It’s as simple as that.
After what happened between Beck and me, I promised I would never allow myself or any woman to be in that position again.
I knew I wasn’t capable of being what someone truly needed.
How could I be? Everything I touch seems to fall apart or wither away.
The last thing I ever wanted was to drag someone else down with me.
This is my hell to burn in, no one else’s.
I can tell Beck still struggles with my decision, and maybe that’s because I didn’t fully explain myself or my reasoning.
We’ve never sat down and talked about everything, it just kind of happened, and was pushed aside as we tried living our lives like everything was normal.
Believe me, I wanted it to work; I wanted to be that for her.
She was the one who deserved the fucking world.
I loved her, and she loved me. But it was inevitable.
After the fire, I couldn’t shake the haunting images and emotions that surged through me—to the point it almost pained me to look at her in any other way but my best friend.
Despite my efforts to protect her heart, I ended up breaking it instead.
It feels like I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.
I take a generous gulp from my coffee, propping my feet up on the small wooden coffee table as I pull up the surveillance at the bar.
I skim through footage before pulling up the videos from the other night.
I fast forward through, reaching around closing time.
I zoom in on the booth where the new girl, Raina, and her jackass boyfriend sit.
Both of them were snickering about something.
They eventually get up and make their way to the bar to close out the tab.
I focus on her as she stands waiting, watching as she scans over me multiple times.
I’ve watched this footage at least five or six times since that night, and I’m still unsure of what her expression meant.
Was she intrigued with what she saw? Or was she disgusted by my hideous scars?
As she goes to leave, she casually says, “Oh, and happy birthday, Ezra.” Although I can’t hear it in the footage, I still remember the way her delicate voice caressed my scarred skin, each word sending tingles up my arms.
I switch to the outside cameras, pulling up right as they walk out the front door.
They stop in front of what looks like a silver Chevrolet truck; it’s Dipshit’s, I presume.
She gently leans up against his driver’s side door as they seem to carry on a conversation of some sort.
I fast-forward a bit more and stop once I see him inching closer to her.
His back is to the camera, and his body keeps her almost entirely hidden.
But I watch closely as he pushes up against her, slowly sliding both hands through her blonde locks.
Now they’re kissing each other. It’s a slow, sensual kiss.
Despite that, after watching it multiple times, I still can’t help but feel something. What that feeling is, I’m unsure.
The same thoughts keep racing through my mind.
Does she enjoy the way his hands feel tangled in her hair, while his body presses against her?
Does she get butterflies when their lips touch?
When he fucks her, does she arch her back from pleasure?
I shake my head, pulling out my Zippo lighter and flicking it back and forth absently.
Finally, their kiss breaks apart, and I let out a sigh of relief.
My eyes follow her as she walks around the truck and gets in.
Yet again, Fuck Nuts fails to open the door for her.
Is he even aware of his surroundings? I roll my eyes as I watch them drive off into the distance, aggressively flicking my lighter a few more times before tucking it back into my pocket.
My fingers comb through my hair, pushing the damp strands from my face.
It’s a shame, really. She was such a pretty little thing; too bad I’ll never see her again.