Pain. Unbearable pain.
Her body is burning hot with an intensity that confuses her. But it's all she can focus on.
Pain that burns like someone has placed a rod of hot iron against her neck and wrists and lets it sit, lets it burn through her as the heat seeps into her veins.
It's simmering just below the surface, seconds from bursting into flames but never quite there. Flowing through her as her heart works overtime to try and keep her alive, the hot raging flames an intruder that she can do nothing about.
She wants to scream, beg, plead to anyone who listens that it hurts beyond comparison, that what she feels shouldn't be possible. But it is because she can feel it destroying her, refusing to let her utter a sound as it consumes everything it can reach.
The weight of hot magma seems to settle in her chest in protest of the air that keeps her alive, causing every breath she manages to become less and less. The feeling of drowning from not water but fire is one she never thought she would know.
But here she is, being overcome by a fire that has a vengeance against her and there is no one to hold her hand as it burns and spreads with no hesitation but an intensity that makes her certain that she will not escape alive.
It burns away at panicked thoughts, through her memories as if they were paper, every important aspect that was strung together to make her who she is. As if wiping the slate clean, as if making room for a more important version of her, one that has no use for what's already given.
Every good thing that she's had in her life, everything that hurt and broke her down, every moment. Until there is nothing left but the fire that continues to rage as if not satisfied.
It's climbing and climbing and she doesn't want to know what will happen when it reaches the peak, when there is nothing else to consume.
But all she can think about is hot burning flames that dance through her blood as if it's supposed to keep her alive instead. And as she burns from the inside, mind full of pain and agony and images of raging flames behind her eyelids, it feels like this punishment will never end, never let her have peace.
She wants to cry and curse any god above who would let her go through this. And she would; curse and scream and beg but she can't make a sound. Not when her mouth feels like a desert, not when her lungs seem to give out more and more with each ragged breath she can manage. Not when she can't even remember why this is happening, why everything hurts and burns.
She doesn't notice the deafening silence at first, too caught up in the fog of growing fire that's overtaking her every sense to understand that something is wrong. Something's happening, something happened.
There's an intense sense of dread she feels as she tries, desperately tries to figure out what is wrong. But she can't catch it, can't figure out what it is.
It feels like she's trying to remember something from a dream from her childhood. But everything is fuzzy and strange and just out of her grasp.
And as she tries and tries, the only thing that's clear and loud in her mind is a word. Missing. Something is missing. Something important?
She just can't remember what it could be but then it clicks or rather it doesn't because it's not a thought but a feeling.
Or rather the absence of a feeling.
And she would panic, would question why that feels so very wrong but she's barely clinging to a metaphorical tight rope as everything burns around her, inside her. Raging and clawing as if it's only purpose is to consume her like fire does.
She thinks for a split second that it intends to trap her, surrounded by ever growing heat and bright burning shades of light. Cage her in and never let her go, untouchable to anything but what consumes her.
She doesn't want to be trapped. She can't even remember how this happened! Why did it choose her to chase and corner? Why her?
Someone above must hate her, she decides. Someone must really hate her.
That's all she can think as everything burns and fire spreads, dances in triumph as it grows closer and closer because she can't move. She can't fight it.
She slips. Falls into heat that should stay on the sun.
It consumes her, all of her. Like fire consumes a burning building. There is no escape, not for her. She finally screams, or maybe she's imagining it. All she knows is that this burning, this agony of heat is worth screaming over, damn the desert in her mouth, that might as well be on fire too.
It's burning, raging, overwhelming her and more. There is nothing she can do but let it, whatever fight she thought she has is gone. She can't fight this.
No matter how much she wants to, she can't.
There is no relief in sight, she doesn't think there will ever be.
Just fire, and flames, and scolding heat.
And then nothing but silence.
Strong yet thin branches reach out from worn bark. Searching and pointing the way to hidden paths that only a few can find. The color of new life sprouts from wood, growing strong and sturdy, claiming its place.
When a breeze comes through or when animals move with enough force and speed some leaves lose grip and ride the wind until they reach the forest floor, meeting others that have fallen.
A few are still bright and vibrant while others are dull in color and hardening from the cut off of life.
An owl perching on a branch takes off, strong wings flapping with enough force to knock a few leaves loose. They float down until they reach the ground, one leaf meets skin hard as marble and settles without disruption, resting like it was always there.
There is no silence, sounds of the forest carry through the thickness of trees and plants. Insects chattering and chirping, a raccoon searching for food, frogs croaking. A young doe is grazing on blades of grass while keeping an eye out for predators, picking its head up every once in a while.
A breath that is not necessary brings air into lungs that no longer burn for such a basic need.
Amongst the forest floor, a small ash colored shrew that's moving through the undergrowth is picked up by an owl. A twig snaps under the weight of an opossum that's sniffing for anything to satiate its hunger.
The leaf resting against marble is disturbed with another breath. It glides off smooth skin until it freefalls a short distance to the ground and lands with a silent thud.
Scarlet eyes open to meet the blending colors of wilderness. Shades of green and brown meet in between and mix.
Tentative fingers dig into the soil with ease, disturbing the greenery and tugging roots out of place. The earth is light and bleeds out before being released.
Another breath is taken and those bright eyes close in fascination of everything that's around. The smell of tree bark, flowers, dirt, so many things.
She doesn't remember everything being so loud, the view so defined. There is life everywhere, nothing is quiet in the wake of a new predator.
Moving to sit up and get a look at where she's at, a small noise catches her attention. She moves, getting to her feet faster than what should feel possible. A low crouch is the response that comes naturally, eyes scan her surroundings. Every muscle wound tight like a coil, waiting for something that might not even be there.
Her sharp gaze lands on the doe that was grazing seconds ago as it gallops away. Dry mud and a few pieces of grass clings to its hooves. The animal's fur looks soft but dirty, and she can see every breath it takes. How the ribs move and slightly stick out. The heartbeat is fast and steady, moving warm blood throughout the body as it leaves her sight.
She doesn't move, doesn't breathe. Just listens and looks around, not willing to be caught by surprise. The earth is soft under her feet and she wiggles her toes in the dirt, the sensation strange yet slightly familiar.
A moment goes by, and then another as nothing seems to jump out at her so with grace that feels like second nature, she stands.
The surrounding forest is strange and unfamiliar in all its brightness and colors. She takes a step forward, cautious but curious as her eyes trail a butterfly moving from one flower to another. Its vibrant orange and black wings stand out against the soft yellow of the flowers it's chosen.
She wants to look more, watch until the butterfly leaves and never returns but there's a burning in her throat that's been growing in intensity. A sensation that feels like she's swallowed hot magma.
It's uncomfortable and irritating and she wants it to stop, immediately. She needs to make it go away. A low rumble in her chest carries her displeasure at the feeling, the urge to move and find out how to make it go away.
She takes a few steps away from the abandoned flowers, slow and careful as she turns away. Listening for something she's not sure of until she finds it.
A sound far off in the distance stands out beyond every other, pulling her attention from everything but that sound. It's strong and steady and she knows in an instant that she needs to follow it.
She moves, without thought. Follows the sound of each beat like it's calling her home.
