I flinch.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t be asking,” she adds quickly, putting her glass down on the table.
“I’m surprised you haven’t asked before.It’s normally everyone’s first question.”
“Willa said it was a fire.”
“It was.”
“But there’s more?”
“Isn’t there always?”I gulp my drink, gearing myself up to speak of the night I try my hardest to forget, yet it clings to me night and day, robs me of sleep, of sanity.Of all sense of peace.If nothing else, it stops me thinking about what I’ve just seen, or what I thought I just saw, in Hayami’s room.
“I was seventeen when it happened.”
Hayami’s eyes widen, and her shoulders brace.Everyone always assumes it happened whilst I was in the army, part of the job.But no.This was before then, when I was only a teenager.
“Seventeen?”
I nod slowly, that night coming back to me in all its horrific glory.The night the darkness touched me, and now crawls across my skin, never letting me forget, never giving me a moment of solace.The night that changed everything.Heat from the whisky permeates my insides, melting the bindings I keep these memories bound with.
“My mum worked as a cleaner at the hospital, and my dad was a delivery driver.Things were tight, but we got by.But one night, my dad came home late, pale, frantic.I was still up, but my mum and sister had gone to bed.He woke Mum up, told her to pack some things because we needed to leave, then told me to do the same.I kept asking him what was going on, but he wouldn’t say, just told me to hurry up.”
I tighten my grip on the glass, knuckles whitening as the blood leaves them.
“I was scared.I’d never seen Dad like that.Mum threw on some clothes and started shoving things into a suitcase as Dad stalked the house, pulling open drawers, stuffing money into a bag and a gun into his waistband.”
I remember it all so clearly; how can I not when it’s burned into my flesh?I take a drink as I gather my thoughts, the whisky loosening my tongue.
“I froze, didn’t know what to do until we heard the smashing of glass coming from the front door.Dad shouted at me to go to my sister’s room, to lock the door, to hide.His face was unrecognisable.I ran to Lilith’s room.My sister woke up, and I told her we had to hide.She was sleepy and didn’t know what was going on.I had no concept of time, no idea how long we hid in her cramped closet.”
I take another swig of whisky as I hear the gunshots.
“The bangs of the gun… it was like I felt them, right here.”I prod at my gut, the whisky sloshing against the emptiness that resides there.“We stayed in the closet, me telling Lilith that everything would be okay and that we just had to stay quiet until Dad came to get us.”
I lower my gaze to the glass.The amber liquid looks so similar to the flames, as if I’ve captured that night in the tumbler.
“But he never did.I didn’t know what was happening until I smelled something burning.”
I blink, positive there must be smoke in the room, as my eyes start to sting.The periphery of my vision blurs, turning Hayami’s frozen figure into a hazy silhouette against the dimly lit kitchen.
“I ran from the closet, dragging Lilith with me.She was crying, and I could hear shouts from outside.”
Their voices ring in my ears and echo off the wall cabinets.It wasn’t until after that I found out it was the neighbours who’d gathered outside the building.They’d probably seen the smoke and called the fire brigade.
My throat begins to close as Hayami shifts in her seat.
“It was when I opened Lilith’s bedroom door that I realised our apartment was on fire, and she and I were going to burn to death if I didn’t get us out.”
The weight of that responsibility still strangles my lungs, worse than the smoke did, and the words get caught up in the blaze.
Hayami remains silent, because what the fuck is there to say?
“I tried to get her out.”I try to continue, but my chest squeezes as I feel the weight of Lilith’s small body in my arms, her trembling, sobbing cries getting swallowed up by the greedy inferno.
“I had to break down her door and use it as a shield to get us through the apartment.But we were trapped.”I let go of my glass, my palms drenched in sweat, the memory of the heat unbearable.
Hayami looks cold and pale, her lips almost blue.
