Her hands grip my arms and push them right into the fire.
My palms are touching one of the huge logs, completely inside the flames.
I scream.
She holds my arms.
I can’t move.
I just scream.
The sharp fire is eating my hands, excruciating pain swallowing me alive. Hundreds of needles sting in my fingers. The smell of burning skin fills my nostrils as I keep screaming.
The second Sylvia’s grip loosens, I tear myself backward so hard I slam into the floor behind me. My hands leave the fire with a wet, sickening sound, like meat peeling off a hot pan. I choke on my breath and stare at them in pure shock.
Both of my palms are raw red and blistered instantly, the skin tight and shiny like boiling wax. Angry white blisters bubble up in seconds, swelling under the surface. The tips of my fingers are the worst—the skin is already lifting and wrinkling. Black soot coats the backs of my knuckles and creeps up toward my wrists.
I flip my hands over and the air hits them.
I scream more.
Tears start to run down my cheeks.
“This was the last time you embarrassed me like this, Kasien.” Sylvia gets up and leaves as I keep screaming, the pain getting even worse every second, like someone poured molten metal straight into my bones.
The burns aren’t even consistent. Some parts of the skin are burned deep and dark, others blistered and bright red. I curl my fingers in by reflex and instantly scream again. The movement tears a line of blistered skin open across my palm. A strand of clear fluid leaks down my wrist. The smell of smoke and burnt skin clings to me so strongly I gag.
My hands tremble uncontrollably from the shock. I can still move them, but every movement feels like tearing through barbed wire. I drop onto my back, lying on the ground, the carpet beneath me soaking with my tears.
The pain is spreading to the rest of my body. Everything burns.
“Oh God, I’m calling an ambulance.”
I open my eyes.
My sister is kneeling next to me. When did she get here?
I close my eyes again, trying to shut my body off, to turn off all the life functions.
But I can’t. Everything burns.
The pain somehow reaches my brain and now it’s burning too. I drop my head to the side, not sure if my eyes are open or closed, but I see my mom.
Her warm, chocolate-brown eyes relax me as I’m slowly passing out.
Kiara
Present
Scarred hands. Black ink lines on a wrist. Black eyes. My bathroom.
It’s all just a blur.
Pain. My head hurts so much it feels like it’s going to crack open any second.
Pillow. Wow, this is such a comfortable pillow.
It was just a dream. I should stop drinking so much.
