IGNITE

seven.

‹ 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 ›

Sweat coated my skin as I shot awake, sheets clinging to my body, and a gasp left my lips. My heart hammered in my ears, blood pumping furiously through my veins. I forced myself to take a deep breath, pushing the covers off and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.

"Fuck," I hissed, dragging a hand over my face, sweat stinging my eyes. It was the same dream, every night; I couldn't escape it.

The voice from my dream—my mother's voice—echoed on repeat in my mind. "What did you do? Oh god, what did you do, Greyson?"

My stomach churned at the memory.

Trudging to the bathroom, I washed my hands furiously, desperate to rid them of the blood that covered my palms. No matter what I did, the stains didn't fade.

They never did.

Turning off the faucet, I glanced up, staring at the man reflected in the mirror. His face twisted into a mask of indifference, but his eyes spoke the truth. They were wild and angry, a storm brewing in the dark irises, a fire blazing.

"Stop," I whispered, my voice a hiss, but the anger didn't leave.

It never left.

The rage burned, an endless simmering fire that was impossible to douse, one that threatened to bring the world around me to ashes.

One that would.

With a deep breath, I turned away from the mirror, stalking out of the bathroom. The city lights outside my window flickered, casting a faint glow inside the room, illuminating the bed in a soft yellow hue. I watched it for a long moment. I knew I wouldn't be getting more sleep tonight, despite the large, glowing numbers on my alarm clock showing it wasn't even 5am yet.

Slipping into a hoodie, I left my room, following the gentle music that flowed through the house, the soft melody drawing me to its source. The floors creaked beneath my weight as I crossed the house, stopping just outside the garage.

The door was slightly ajar, the scent of paint drifting into the hall, and despite myself, I found my scowl softening.

Piper sat perched in front of an easel, her hand moving back and forth with purpose, a brush clutched between her delicate fingers. Her tongue poked out of her mouth, a wrinkle on her brow as she concentrated on her task, and paint splattered across her cheeks.

Tendrils of orange hair escaped her bun, brushing against her neck and the collar of the old t-shirt that she wore, the fabric so big it slipped down one shoulder, revealing smooth, pale skin.

My heart thundered at the sight, a feeling I'd never experienced before settling in my chest, and I found myself frozen, unable to do anything but watch her.

It was always the same when it came to her.

That strange, tingling feeling in my chest—one that ignited that anger in me, threatening to set the whole damn place ablaze.

She was a ray of sunshine. And I was the darkness that threatened to steal her light.

And that was the way it would always be.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, when my phone buzzed softly in my pocket. Glancing down, I saw the name flashing on the screen, my stomach dropping.

Shit.

My eyes glazed over the text, and I could feel the fire ignite, flames licking up my spine, consuming me.