Page 12 of The Monster I Am
To be fair, I think I’m just happy that I’m alive. We’ll have plenty of opportunities to fight about other things. Fighting over money seems a little ridiculous now that it feels like someone has shoved a fire poker into my skin repeatedly.
It’s insignificant in the grand scheme of life. Well…kind of.
We’re still very much going to have a discussion about it when I find my balls of steel again. But not today.
Not right now.
“This chorus is fitting,” I mumble, amused.
Rylan glares at me, clearly not sharing the same sentiments.
Of course, it’s obvious that the lyrics are referring to a different type of fiery inferno than the one we faced—a metaphorical rise from the ashes. But hey—if I don’t laugh about being burnedalive, what else can I do? My sense of humor is all I have left to keep me sane right now.
Wicked flames entwined with pain. But if I don’t burn, what will I gain? We hold on to our endless death. Spiraling until there’s nothing left.
Judging from the look on Rylan’s face, this is the first time he’s listened to the song as well. It sends a chill—or some warm, fuzzy feeling, I’m undecided—through my body knowing that he’s waited hours just so he can listen to it with me.
I don’t know what this all means, or anything, really. And for the first time in my life, I have no desire to know all the answers. They scare me. Because then I’ll have no choice but to face reality. And I’m not ready for that yet.
Which begs the other question plaguing my mind that I haven’t dared ask out loud yet.
How did I escape the fire?
The last thing I remember is seeing Lannister’s feet disappear out the window to freedom, the heat fading away as my consciousness exited the building with him. I just remember feeling relief that it would be all over shortly. I would be with Mom again, blissfully passing out before the fire could fully take me.
The next thing I knew, I was waking up here, cursing and crying—okay, screaming—simultaneously.
Arch has visited most days, often bringing Abby with him. He provided some information about the fire from his dad, but even they are unsure about how it started or how I ended up trapped.
It’s apparent that whoever was in Cedar Heights with us that night wanted us dead. They were hellbent on finishing the arson job, regardless that we were in the damn building at the time.
That’s a scary thought. Maybe I was a bonus. Two birds, one stone.
I’ve spent most of my life trying to navigate this damn feud. Having‘enemies’is not a foreign concept by any means, but even at the peak of their torment, I never once imagined that the kings of Willowbrook would wish me dead for real. Broken, yes. Dead? That’s a stretch.
It’s hard to fathom that even Lannister locking me in the warehouse seems tame compared to the fire incident.
Speaking of the devil—he’s the only person I haven’t seen.
Once again, I haven’t pried. But Rylan and Tai did let me know that he was okay as well, which was a relief to hear. Some burns and smoke inhalation injuries, but still very much alive and kicking.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, though. Part of me feels a littledisappointedthat he hasn’t been here. Which is downright asinine.
Just because we had a brief moment of civility in the face of death doesn’t mean our entire dynamic has changed. He’s made it very clear that he hates me. If anything, that night only proved that he’s notentirelyas cold and heartless as I believed. Even the strongest of men would start to crack in that situation, so I don’t have any expectations about what this could mean moving forward.
I’m just glad he’s okay for Rylan and Tai’s sake.
Soph has been here every day. Often, she just sits in the visitor chair, reading her Kindle while I doomscroll on TikTok. It’s rare you find someone who can create peace in the silence, but I’ve found it in her.
The song finishes and I remove the earbud, handing it back to Rylan. “It’s perfect. Surely this means a possible tour.”
He nods. “That’s the general consensus on socials.”
“I might need to start selling feet pictures online,” I joke. “Do you reckon the burns would sell or should I wait until I’m fully healed and charge a scar tax?”
Rylan’s face deadpans. “I suppose you could match your fingers and toenails. I’ve heard some creeps like receiving used underwear if the foot venture fails.”
“I’m not entirely sure I want to send my underwear. I’d have to replace them, and that’s a big inconvenience. Do you know how luxurious it is to find the perfect pair of panties? What if the next bunch I buy leave me in a twist? No pun intended.”
