A/N: Hey everyone. Please don't kill me. I'm so so sorry for not updating in so long. See, I had planned on updating earlier this summer because the guilt had been eating away at me. Now I realize this isn't an update for my Harry Potter stories, and for that I'm sorry. But I promise I am not abandoning the stories. I just had slight writers block. But I promise to have a chapter for each of my other stories up before the school year starts. Thanks for keeping with me and don't forget to review!
Pain. It wasn't so bad. Or at least that was what I was trying to tell myself. The middle of my back and above was on fire. Slowly, bit by bit, the flames consumed me. Burning like one of my cigarettes. In fact, I could smell the scent of burning flesh. I couldn't feel anything bellow the middle of my back. The flames had already passed that area, explaining the numbness I now felt. I wasn't really on fire, of course. It was just such a reoccurring event that by now I could almost convince myself that it was true. After all, the pain was believable enough. No! No, I wasn't on fire, at least not anymore. I was lying in a hospital bed, not in a church on fire, like before. Key words being like before. Okay, I had to stop thinking about this, I told myself. If you think about it, you'll make it worse. But I knew the real reason I didn't want to think about it, was because I would have to eventually let down my mask. I knew that if I allowed myself to feel the pain, really feel it, I would realize just how scared I really was. The doctor may not have said it out loud, but I could tell he was thinking it. He pities me. A part of me does too. I'm to young. Sixteen years old was way too young to die. But it was going to happen and I knew it. Then I heard the door open, and a familiar voice say, "Hey, Johnnykid". And I opened my eyes.