The fire. A curtain burnt, and soon enough, the whole house followed. A bright beacon of darkness lighting up the sky. A tower of black smoke reached up to the stars.
Harry.
Harry looked at me the same way he did when we first met.
I met Harry the day of my grandma's funeral. I was seventeen and life had just ended for me. Silas cried silently by my side.
"Did you do these flower arrangements?" I asked the man that supervised the vigil. I read his tag. Harry. I'd get to know the feeling of that name rolling out of my tongue like it was my own. "They're… so beautiful," I complimented, with unshed tears dwelling in my eyes.
"Do you think I'm beautiful too?" Harry grinned.
I laughed, cupping his cheeks. His full lips were glossy. "You are… the most beautiful of them all."
Harry placed a hand on the back of my neck, closing the distance between us. "Then why did you kill me?"
No, that wasn't how it was supposed to go. That wasn't how we met. Harry looked like the last time I saw him. Dead. When I tried to back away, his hand pinned me in place. "I'm sorry," I muttered, unshed tears welling in my eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to."
"Then, why did you do it? You hurt me, Mitchie." His breath stank of stale air and burnt flesh. Just like her. "And you force me to hurt you." His blind eyes were hateful, his skin peeled off as it melted and bubbled up. The drizzling sound filled my ears, and his teeth fell off like domino pieces. His once-attractive hands shrinked until they were mostly bone and a bit of skin.
The funeral home blended into the darkness on the corners of my vision. As the darkness enveloped us, I lost contact with Silas, who stared at the dead body of grandma unaware of Harry's change. Surprisingly, I was there too, by his side.
"It's a dream," I muttered, forcing my eyes closed. I couldn't bear to see Harry one more second. My voice trembled, my hands stayed by my sides curled up in thigh fists. My shaky breath was the only thing I could hear for a while, and I really thought he was gone.
"Maybe we should say hi to your friend," Harry whispered. "Look at him."
"No." It's a dream. It's a dream. I shook my head quickly, standing completely still.
"Look at him!" Harry shrieked in my right ear. He grabbed my jaw and his fingers dug into my skin as he forcefully turned my head. I gasped, something along the lines of disgust and fear making my eyes tear up. "You replaced me."
I opened my eyes, obeying his order. "He has nothing to do. Please."
Mark was standing before the casket of grandma. He was wearing a black suit: black tie, black shirt, and everything black. His alabaster hair fell on his forehead as he leaned forward. As if he was praying, or saying his goodbyes. But I saw his lips whisper something to Sabela's dead ears.
"This is different," I said, finding a confidence in my voice I wasn't feeling. When Harry's blind eyes settled on Mark, I realized his eyeballs had been gouged out. Had I done that when I murdered him? "Please, Harry. Leave him alone."
Harry let my chin free. He had another prey he wanted to torment.
"You're in my mind," I cried, unable to follow him. Unable to run to Mark and warn him. "Don't you dare hurt him! This is my dream."
Harry kept advancing, much to Mark's unaware presence. Silas kept looking forward. "But you're mine. Isn't that what you promised?"
Harry kissed my lips, he rested his forehead in mine. "I love you," he said.
"I love you more," I responded. "I'm yours. Forever and ever."
"Stop!" I screamed, desperately trying to break free of my paralysis. 662 "This is different!"
"How is it different, Mitchie?" Harry was so close to Mark that he could've reached a hand and touched his shoulder. But he had his back to us. "You're going to do to him what you did to me. To her."
Wake up, a voice inside of me commanded. It wasn't me but it called me.
Wake up.
I gasped, opening my eyes, but all I saw was darkness and her. The burnt lady, staring down at me. Her stringy hair matted with blood and the liquid that oozed out of her pustules, her eyes unseeing and her lips gone. I stared at her teeth as a scream built up inside me.
I let out a weak whimper. Her eyes had also been gouged out, and I couldn't help but stare at her two horrible holes. My hand searched for something, until it closed around another hand.
It burned, but I'll be damned if it didn't feel good. I screamed, turning to Mark. I buried my face into his chest, not caring if I woke him.
When his arms came around him, I let out a shaky breath. "Am I—Am I awake?"
"Yes."
"Don't," I asked, when his arms loosened. "Hold me, please."
"Okay. Are you… Are you okay?" Mark propped his chin on my head, I felt the burn of his neck against my nose. But the pain didn't hurt as much, and I preferred it to attach me to reality.
It took me a few tries to answer the question. Sometimes, I wavered. Other times, I wanted to tell him the truth, to cut my heart open and lay it out in front of him to judge. I wanted him to see my blood, to see my scars, to forgive me for all the lies I'd told. Would it be so bad to let myself be seen? I wanted someone to see me again the way Harry had, to tell me it's okay to be a monster.
I was sticky with sweat, my heart thrumming on my chest and my breath a quick succession of cloudy puffs. I was so cold, yet so hot at the same time. I wanted to push Mark away and at the same time to fuse with his entrails so he would burn my body to ash.
My lips brushed his skin as I trembled. I placed a hand on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat. "I'm fine," I finally responded, although it didn't sound too convincing.
"Do you want to talk about it? Do you need anything?"
I nodded. "Let's go outside. I want to see the stars."
He helped me up as I didn't dare open my eyes. I wasn't completely convinced it wasn't a nightmare, and I expected Harry to make his sudden appearance at any minute. And yet, and yet, Mark guided me outside with a gentle hold, and the nicotine stang of cigarettes rushed me back to reality, and I dared a little peek at the reception.
It was three in the morning. Anne's shift had ended already, and her chair was empty. Mark led me to the front door, and the bells chimed to announce our exit.
I looked up at the sky. The stars dotted the sky in millions of diamonds.
The stars.
Silas scrambled to drag me away. The fire licked the soles of my bare feet. I was almost dead, and fatigue slurred the words I told my brother. When the night broke into the house, my brother got me out of that door.
The stars. We saw the stars. We saw the night, and the tiny little brilliant dots and I had thought I'd never see them again. I cried tears of sadness and joy.
The stars. I focused on them because remembering my nightmare wasn't something I wanted to do at the moment. "I like seeing the stars."
It was the first thing I saw when I tasted freedom that night. To look up, to watch the sky. Funny how things change so little sometimes.
"It's a side effect of my abilities," I croaked. Screaming had left my throat sore.1339
"But do you always forget you're awake?"
No. And it was something that worried me, the blurry line between dream and reality that I found more and more difficult to find.
"Some things are as new to you as they are to me." Of course it was hard sometimes to recognize reality after a specially stressful dream. Sometimes, disorientation played a big part. I waved away his worried expression. "I'll be fine. I always am."
Mark doubted me. I felt his hesitation, and I understood the reticence to believe me. He caught all my lies with ease, even if he wasn't aware of it. His demons told me.
They knew how much I liked to lie. They liked me.
I watched the sky, took in the orange moon, and at some point, Mark was behind me, and I was leaning my head against his shoulder. I would've liked for us to become statues so the moment would never pass.
We'd become the stony figures that would never look down.