Part 4: Into the Fire

She stood staring at a strange portrait on the wall. It looked like a human torso that had been cut up and stitched back together again. He just hoped that wasn't what it was.

The once grand staircase they stood in, it's carpeted stairs and bright white walls, was now engulfed in flames. Angela stood about half way up the staircase, seemingly unaware of the fire around her. James took a few steps up; she heard him and turned to him.

"Mama! Mama, I was looking for you."

James took a few steps back.

"Now you're the only one left. Maybe then… Maybe then I can rest."

Angela moved closer to James as he continued to back down the stairs.

"Mama, why are you running away?"

She reached out, touching his face and shoulders with her dry, rough hands. She leaned in close, stared for a moment, and then quickly pulled away from him and jumped back.

"You're not Mama! It's you… I, I'm sorry." She placed her hand in the middle of her chest and turned her attention to the floor.

"Angela, no…" James said in a quiet voice.

Her eyes began to water, tears gathering, "Thank you for saving me. But, I wish you hadn't… Even Mama said it… I deserved what happened…"

James winced, imagining his own mother saying that to him after going through something so traumatic, "No, Angela, that's wrong!"

Angela looked up, tears streaming down her cheeks, and gave a small smile, "No, don't pity me. I'm not worth it…" She paused for a moment and then spoke again in a lighter voice, "Or maybe you think you can save me? Will you love me? Take care of me? Heal all my pain?"

James looked at the floor. He didn't know what to say. He didn't want to tell her that it couldn't work like that, it might hurt her more. And he didn't want to lie and tell her that he would do what she was asking.

"That's what I thought. James," she held out her hand, "give me back that knife."

James shook his head, "No. I, I won't…"

Angela smiled again, her eyes seemed to sparkle, "Saving it for yourself?"

She turned and began to walk up the staircase. James' eyes widened.

"Me? No… I'd never kill myself… It's hot as hell in here." he said pulling at the collar of his shirt.

Angela stopped and turned back, "You see it too? For me, it's always like this."

She continued up the staircase and was swallowed by the flames. Unsure if the fire was real or just both of their imagination, he didn't dare follow her. James frowned, let out a long sigh, and left the staircase hall through the door he originally had come in.

The truth can only be learned by marching forward

Angela sat with her back up against the damp brick wall. She had her knees drawn up to her chest and was hugging them tightly. The rain hadn't yet washed all the blood from the knife she still clutched tightly in her hand. She smiled slightly and gave a weak laugh, she was finally free of her father.

Angela had approached him on light feet, she didn't want to wake him and make problems for herself. But when she thrust the knife forward she missed her intended target and instead plunged the knife deep into his left shoulder. He screamed and kicked his legs out, hitting Angela and causing her to fall. Lucky for her, she took the knife down with her.

He grabbed at his wound and jumped to his feet. Blood squirt from the puncture with each beat of his heart. Thomas charged toward her. Moving quickly, Angela scrambled to her feet and moved out of his path. He fan into and fell over a table, knocking plates from it and causing the to shatter on the floor. She strode over to him as he rolled onto his back. He saw her coming and put his hands up to stop her in mid-stab.

Thomas began to shake. He was losing too much blood and was beginning to feel lightheaded. He didn't know how much longer he could hold her off. Not want to fight him, Angela made a fist with her free hand and, hoping he would grab for his newly injured parts, crammed that fist into his groin as hard as she could manage.

While he didn't make a move his arms gave out and Angela was able to successfully able to drive the knife through the middle of his neck. His arms dropped away from her and she raised the knife again and again, even after he ceased moving. She pulled the knife from his corpse and fled.

All that remains is despair, and a future of meaningless tomorrows

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Finished