“We had to, Amira. My DNA was all over that fucking house. Yours… Ash’s. We had to burn that shit to the ground, or else we’d all be in a fucking cell right now.”
“Look at what we fucking did!” I scream, tears blurring my vision as I stare out at the homes of dozens of animals I probably killed.
“It was that, or I’d be back in fucking jail and away from you. Now tell me, would you have preferred that? Because in case you forgot, it’s still a fucking possibility.”
My mouth opens to spew vile words, his callous, careless comments twisting the knife deep into my gut, but he isn’t done.
“I’m sorry this was the fucking outcome, but when I tell you that it was for the best, fucking listen.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. You’re not my fucking father.”
“You’re right. I’m not. I’m your fucking brother and your protector, best friend and fucking lover. I did what I had to do. We did what we had to do for each other.”
My eyes are on my lap when I feel the car stop. I know where we are. I can smell the sulfur in the wind, hear the echoes of our screams in the air. And if that wasn’t enough, Roman’s heavy sigh just drives my confirmation home.
“Now, angel, being back here is already fucking difficult. So please don’t make it harder by making me feel guilty for killing squirrels and whatever fucking else lived in these trees.”
Roman’s words don’t penetrate the shield coming down around me. The walls I’ve been working so hard to tear down rise again, blanketing my mind in a murky fog as I stare at the ruination in front of me.
Dropping my leg down from the dashboard, I slowly begin to unbuckle myself from the seat. Again, Roman says something, but I can’t comprehend it as I step from the car.
That fateful night replays fresh in my memory. The scent of gasoline intoxicating my senses as it splashed over the house. I could almost feel the sparks against my skin as I struck the match alight. I could sense the flames coming from the wood, blistering the back of my neck as I ran from the explosion, the acrid smell of the fire returning to my nose when the wind blows past my face.
The blood of my father crusting over my skin as the inferno seared it into my flesh.
I feel it all.
Every scent, every touch.
I can taste the embers in the air, and it robs me of any strength I have left.
“Why would they just leave the house here? Burnt… standing in the middle of nothing.”
Roman shrugs, coming to stand beside me. “Maybe no one cared to clean it up because no one but you guys lived in these woods?”
“Or maybe some sick fucks just wanted a relic to fucking visit,” I growl under my breath, stepping away from Roman to the cement steps of my home.
I stand on the burnt remains of my home, devoid of emotion, as I stare at the charred slabs of wood that crumble under my feet when I step farther onto the debris.
My gaze latches onto the colorful writing on the back wall, stomach sinking against my spine as the wordsIncestHouseprocess in my mind.
“Oh my God…” I whisper as I run my hands through my hair. Then, stepping forward to get closer to the graffiti, my foot gets stuck under a slab of wood, sending me crashing to the ground with nothing to catch me but empty air.
I cry out as splinters of wood pierce my skin. The fragments are excruciatingly scraping along the fatty flesh inside my palm, making me hiss in pain as I rip them from inside me.
“Shit! Angel, are you okay?” Roman drops down beside me and takes my hand in his. He’s much gentler than I am at taking out the particles, almost soothing as the sting washes along my flesh.
I tear my eyes away from the smearing words and look down at the bubbling of blood in my palm, fighting the urge to spread the red liquid around my skin before looking around the blackened remnants.
“Oh, yeah… I just have fucking twigs in my skin, and oh! Did you see the fucking wall? So yeah, I love that my home is now known as the incest house.”
Roman doesn’t give the wall a glance. Instead, he keeps his eyes on me while holding my hand. “Don’t pay it any mind, just some fucking bored ass kids wanting to contribute to disaster.”
I wonder who did it.
Did they know me?
Did we go to kindergarten together and giggle over strawberry-frosted cupcakes while watching the boys throw balls in the playground?
