Heart of Steel [Pokémon Fanfiction]

17| A Lesson in Fire

I stared up blankly at the ceiling, getting lost in the faint brush strokes that had dried when the paint had. The bed beneath me felt practically nonexistent, simply something that separated my body from the hardwood floor.

   I had no idea how long I had been here in the room we had rented. To me it felt like an eternity, though from how many times Wallace and Winona had come and gone it was probably just a day or two. I could only track the actual time by the shadows that crept across the walls and ceiling like swarms of dark Nincada.

For what felt like the fiftieth time, I brought my right arm into my field of vision. After the accident at the Gym, I had been treated for the burn I had received from Camerupt's Flame Burst. It was a first-degree burn that was half the size of a water bottle's radius, a lucky escape considering how close I had been to the initial blaze. The unsightly injury was now hidden under a layer of bandages, and I was glad it was. I didn't want to have to see the reddened, blistered flesh that was proof of my spinelessness.

Once I was treated, these past couple of days were hard to get through. Today, Wallace had said he was going to challenge Mako. I knew he would win, what Water Trainer wouldn't against a Fire-type Leader? I felt horrible for refusing to watch his battle, but I wanted to go nowhere near that building. That was the reason why I was still in this room. I was too afraid to leave, too ashamed. All of that negativity had formed into an overwhelming depression that crushed me like a lead weight.

Meteor had given up trying to talk to me. I guessed once he realized that I wasn't speaking to anyone, I wouldn't say a thing to him either. This wasn't true. I wanted to say so much to him, but I figured he didn't want to hear apologies. I could recall times where Mom had done something similar to this when she was depressed, refusing to talk for days until either she brought herself out of her misery, or someone else did it for her. From how I was mentally isolating myself like this, I guessed it was up to me whether or not I came out of it.

I grew bored of staring at the unchanging ceiling and rolled onto my side, hoping that this new vantage point would give me something else to think about. A faint glint caught my eye, and I shifted my gaze to the bed's small side table. Placed precariously close to the edge, sitting all on its lonesome, was the stickpin Dad had given me. A ray of sunlight held the accessory in its golden grasp, and it made the gemstone spark with multicolored light. A grim look crossed my face, and I reached out to grab the stickpin. At first I was going to hide it from sight in my pocket, but I stopped myself.

What happened to proving yourself? What happened to overcoming your fear? I didn't need to answer my own questions, that last word was the answer. Fear was something that had always stopped me. It was as common a feeling to me as calmness was to Mom, or concern was to Dad. It was natural, it was normal. So why did it crush me so much?