Fire
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if I had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great, and would suffice.
It's ironic how random things like poems or songs can actually affect one's life, isn't it? My story isn't one that should be pitied, no, what happened to me I brought upon myself. The only reason why I'm sharing my tragedy is because if I don't get this down on paper, I might go insane. First I had to lose my family, because of me no less, and then my entire world of belief is turned upside down. But I'm getting ahead of myself aren't I? Well, let me take you to Friday, March 13, 1963, my eighteenth birthday. The day I killed my family, and myself.
I was riding home from school with my brothers, John and Randy. John was the youngest of us, only fifteen; he was a freshman at Winterset High School where we all attended. Randy was a nineteen-year-old senior and was the quarterback on the football team; he had gotten a scholarship to go down to the University of Alabama next year. I was one year younger than Randy, so I was a junior.
I was a pretty average girl. I had all A's in my classes, never too loud or outspoken, I ran around with all the right girls, never got in trouble, the perfect teenager.
My short, curly red hair bounced around in the wind while we drove down Whitesburg Avenue with the top down to get home. We were in the Cadillac, so Randy didn't drive quite as wild as he usually would. Randy was one of the most popular boys at school. He was always out with his friends or Cindy, his girlfriend. He wasn't ever in any fights, or got detention. He kept in the high B's or low A's as far as grades go, but my parents we perfectly okay with that.
John was a different story, however. John was the quiet, smart one. He had all A's like me, and never really talked at school. He only had about two or three friends that he sat at lunch with, but he never complained, so I think he doesn't mind too much.
We go home promptly at three forty-five. Randy, being the gentleman, came and opened my door for me, "Your majesty", he said.
"Oh, why thank you kind sir!" We walked into the house and talked to mom and dad for a little while.
"How was school today, Jenny?" That was me, Elise Anastasia DeMent. Proud daughter of Martha and Michael DeMent.
"It was great! I got a ninety-six on my geometry test, and Emily and the girls brought me a cupcake for lunch."
"That's wonderful, sweetie. Why don't you and your brothers go wash up, and then we'll have dinner, okay?"
"Alright, mom."
I danced off to the upstairs bathroom to wash my hands. I quickly ran a comb through my hair and straightened my skirt before flying back downstairs.
"Dinner was great, mom," Randy said after letting out a rather rude burp.
"Thank you Randy, I think we gathered that from your untimely belch," we all snickered at Mother's blatantness. "Let's all go into the family room and let Jenny open her presents."
We all walked into the family room, and my parents pulled out a present for me. It was a small box wrapped in a light blue paper.
"Here you go Jenny," said my father. I took the wrapped-up box from him and gently began to unwrap it.
Once I was passed the paper, I opened the actual box. Inside was a round, decorative music box. In a small velvet bag was the winding key. I glanced up at my parents to give an excited smile. I eased the winding key into the opening and turned it three times before opening the box. Inside was a figurine of a rose that twirled round and round while a hauntingly beautiful melody emitted itself. After it finished its round, I set it aside gently before giving each of my parents a loving hug.
"Thank you both so much," I whispered to my parents.
"You are more than welcome, Jenny," my Father said with unnamed joy.
"Here Jen, open ours," Randy said as he pushed another gift-wrapped box towards me.
I pretended to sigh dramatically while I took the box, "I guess I'll open it," I said with mock sarcasm. I cracked a smile from John, which encouraged me to open the box faster. After tearing through the paper, I found two new books from the library and a small scented candle. I looked and saw the candle was called 'Brown Sugar Glow'.
"Thank you boys. I really appreciate it." I also gave them big hugs too, before excusing myself upstairs to light the candle in my bedroom.
I struck the match hard against the box and held it still after the flame had lit. I gently brought it to the wick of the candle and waited for it to catch fire. I waved out the match and tossed it in the waste basket. I picked up one of the books my brothers had gotten me and snuggled up in my bed, quickly becoming engrossed in the book.
You might be surprised that I was spending my eighteenth birthday alone in my room at home with a book, but that was how it usually was. I had never really related well to my family. Not that we couldn't get along or anything, but I had just always enjoyed being alone rather than with others. I was the same at school. I had friends, but something always seemed missing in the relationship. I had always had a sense of maturity the other kids my age didn't have and I usually blamed my anti-socialism on that.
"Elise, come back downstairs! The boys want to play a game of cards." I heard Mom yell from downstairs.
"I'll be down in a sec!" I tossed my book on my nightstand where, coincidentally, I had placed my candle. I, of course, didn't notice as I rushed downstairs to sit with my family.
"Here I am!" I stated as I walked into the den.
We all sat for a while, laughing and talking. Dad and Randy were at each other's necks trying to convince my mother that the other was cheating, but she would have none of it.
She was truly an admirable woman, my mother. The perfect housewife. Father was in the army back when they first got married, and even when they had to move around a lot she was happy and never complained. When Randy was born, they finally settled down here in Winterset. It was a small town, but my parents loved it. Dad came and took up a job as the pastor at the local church. It was a change, but mom adapted quickly. She was always good for that. Taking care of things with a strong will and a caring touch.
At least my last memory of my family could be a happy one.
"Mom, did you leave anything in the oven," John asked suddenly.
"I don't think so. Why do you ask?" She rose from the table headed for the kitchen.
"It smells like something's burning." Said John.
"Yeah, Mom, I smell it too." Randy added.
"I'll go check upstairs, Martha," my dad said as he hopped up from his chair and jogged up the stairs.
"I'll come too," Randy said as he followed.
"There's nothing in the oven, I wonder what-"
"Martha! Call the fire department!" Yelled my father.
You know how in movies when all the bad things happen it's in slow motion? Not in real life. What happened next went so fast, I'm not even sure if I'm telling it right.
I heard my Mom get the phone and call 911, but I think they put her on hold. John went to get something from his room, and when he came back one of the banisters on our ceiling fell on top of him. I remember screaming his name so many times. The fallen beam also trapped my way out of the flaming room, so when I reached forward for support, fire fell down and caught my arm. The pain was like nothing I'd ever felt before. It was so hot, it felt like I was freezing. Mom had just gotten over pneumonia a few months ago, so I think the smoke inhalation killed her. John was already gone, and Randy and Dad probably were too. Fire rained down around me. I tried to scream for help, but no one came. I remember hitting my head on something and falling down. The last think I felt before I lost consciousness was cold hands enveloping me into their arms, and carrying me away from there. Then everything was black.
I was consciously awake and aware of what was happening around me, I simply didn't want to open my eyes because that would make all of last night real. At first I thought I had died, but everything was too real for that. I could feel the dull ache of my burnt arm, each painful breath as I inhaled and exhaled. There's too much smoke in my lungs. Maybe I'll get lucky and die. I let out a dry cough and groaned as the smoky breath irritated my dry throat.
"Is she awake?" I heard someone, a man I think, ask somewhere to my far right. I assumed he was my doctor or new guardian since all the rest of my family was dead.
"I don't think so. She hasn't moved or opened her eyes." A woman's voice replied. It was light and soothing. I enjoyed hearing it.
"Just because she isn't moving she can't be awake." He chuckled. I assumed the woman gave him a pointed look at that comment because he laughed some more and moved closer to me.
A long pause hung after his words. A small amount of tension ran through the air. "What should we do?"
He sighed and walked across the room again. Maybe to the window? "I don't know."
"She has no one else left to go to, Lucas. They'll put her in an orphanage, and after that she'll be all alone." So that was his name. Lucas. Somehow it fitted him. I was surprised how much this woman seemed to care for me. She barely knew me and yet she worried about me. I was humbled.
"Well what can we do? We can't very well keep her the way she is, it's too dangerous. And I still don't understand why she's so important to you. She's just another human, what difference does she make?" he growled at her, quickly changing to the offensive line. How could I be dangerous to them? I was certainly no threat in my current situation and doubted I ever would be.
"I don't know. Something just tells me we need to take care of her." She answered quietly, unaffected by his outburst.
He threw something across the room. Hard. I heard it smash into the wall and it may have even burst through. I was surprised I didn't jump and give myself away. Silence buried itself into the conversation and stayed for quite some time.
"What if we changed her?" Came the quiet suggestion of the woman. Changed me? Into what? I suddenly feared the people around me and wanted to leave. I had long stopped thinking they were my doctor and nurse but now I was sure. I was scared to even breathe, much less move.
"All right. Go outside, I'll take care of it." I heard her get up from the chair next to me and leave the room, closing the door quietly. I heard his slow footsteps as he crossed the room and sat down in the chair. His cold breath tickled my face and I opened my eyes. I immediately wished I hadn't. Two bright red orbs stared down at me. I gasped and tried to pull away from him, but I only succeeded in burrowing myself further into the couch I was laying on.
"Please, don't hurt me." I begged, not really sure of what he would do to me. He smiled sadly and gently stroked the side of my face. His hands were ice cold and injected fear in me. I closed my eyes and tightened all the muscles in my body to try and block out what was to come.
"Don't worry, you'll be fine."
I suddenly felt his lips on my throat, and suddenly, his teeth cutting through my flesh. I screamed and opened my eyes in shock. I thrashed around and tried to push him off me, but he was like stone. Suddenly he let go of me. I stared at him as I gasped for breath like a fish out of water. He looked at me sorrowfully and walked away, leaving me to my pain. I felt a fire start in my neck, where he had bit me. The burning grew—rose and peaked and rose again until it surpassed anything I'd ever felt. I felt the heat travel to my heart and consume it in flames. I wanted to raise my arms and claw my chest open and rip the heart from it—anything to get rid of this torture. But I couldn't feel my arms, everything was lost in the flames.
The fire blazed hotter and I scream. And, for a never-ending space, that was all there was. Just the fiery torture, and my shrieks, pleading for death to come. Nothing else, not even time. So that made it infinite, with no beginning and no end. One infinite moment of pain.
The worst of it all was that my mind was unbearably clear—sharpened by the fierce pain. I would see them walk in and out of the room. I would beg and scream at them to kill me. To end this cruel torture. Sometimes the woman would come sit by me and tell me stories. Sometimes I would listen. She told me stories about her and her sister. She said that's why she had saved me—if you could call this being saved—I reminded her of her sister. She regretted leaving her. She misses her. Hearing her soft voice made it a bit easier to go through.
The only change was from bad to worse. I felt the pain double when it reached my head. It doubled there and spread like wild-fire all over. Nothing was left unscathed. He would come in when I screamed and apologize. I would only tremble and shake. And scream. Always screaming.
It could have been seconds or days, weeks or years, but, eventually, time came to mean something again. Slowly, I began to feel my body again. First my toes and fingers, and inward from there. My shaky, shallow breaths became more low and even. I began to count my breaths. Counting and waiting for the end.
They walked in together. This time I actually looked at them. They were both very beautiful. She had long wavy hair. An honey-brown color. She was average-height. Shorter than him. And thin. She was very thin. He had curly dark brown hair. He was well-built, but not overly muscular. They complimented each other. They both had dark, crimson eyes and pale white skin.
"How do you feel?" I heard her ask gently. I slowly sat up and swung my legs over the side of the couch. I steadied myself and then stood up. I felt relatively normal. I looked down at my hands. They were awfully pale, but I noticed my left arm was normal where a nasty burn mark should have been. My hand raised to feel the oval mark on my neck where Lucas had bitten me. I looked at them and smiled slightly, walking towards them. The woman—I felt a sense of awkwardness not knowing her name—smiled in return and held her hand out to me. I took it in mine and she led me over to an old mirror hanging on the wall.
I was shocked at my reflection. I was beautiful. My skin was flawless and beautifully pale. My curly red hair sat gently on my shoulders. I was a true goddess. An incarnation of perfection. I don't mean to sound vain or shallow, but I was completely taken away by how I looked.
What shocked me the most was my bright red eyes.