My name is Isobel Dmitri. I dream of fire and masochism and enjoy it. And I never knew why, which was as bad as the dreams themselves because I always felt way out of sync with the rest of the world. Everyone, including me, thought I was mad, and by the end we were all waiting on tenterhooks for the men in white coats; though I think I would have preferred that to the terrible truth. My name is Isobel Dmitri, and this is the story of how I died…