Of Solar And Dark (2018)

26 [E]

Edward Kenning

There is nothing.

Around me, clouds of smoke funnel through the wreckage of the room and the orange flames do a victorious dance, springing from wall to wall and hissing as it threatens to swallow me up. The sprinklers do nothing to exitinguish the violent  blaze that kindles the windows and breaks the glass. Every atom in my body yells at me to run, to move away from the flames but I am immobilised.

Because there is nothing. 

A channel starts to form along my face where the tears begin to trail down and I stare helplessly at the damage done. I can't seem to find Sebestian in the midst of destruction, where the machinery have toppled over to create a pile of splintered metal and pipes that burst into heavenly light, conversing in the language of heat and solar, of fear and danger.

The heat starts to get to me and I can feel the temperature rising every second that I stayed rooted in this position, every passing moment that I tell myself I can't leave. Yet, I can't get my muscles to move.

This is my fault.

I should have known. The lighthouse that caught on fire? It must have been me. Now Sebestian was gone, a dusting of ashes that rose up with the smoke and nestled amongst the base of blue flare that wrapped around the floor boards, burning hole through them.

"Edward! Are you freaking crazy? Get moving!" Martha materialises by my side, hands grasping onto a dagger and her voice firm with authority. I try to answer her but all that comes out is a choked gasp.

Ignoring my splutters of shock, Martha snatches my hand and starts to run, dragging me along. The tiles beneath my feet groan with the heavy weight of my body but I can't seem to move. Or think, really. All that I'm able to do is replay the conversation Sebestian and I had before his room blew up. Recall the way the flames contorted his body, the way they mercilessly chewed the interior of the building.

He's gone.

The words are wobbly in my chest, unsteady in my head and a lie in my heart.

Because he can't be gone. Not the boy who held me, the boy who made me feel safe when I was ten feet up in the air. Not the boy who knew so much about fighting, who drove through the ride of insanity with me when the world was falling apart.

My feet topple down the stairs as Martha's grip on my wrist tightens and I feel the air being knocked out of my lungs with each step that my feet scramble to make. I smell the smoke, wafting from upstairs and slowly creeping around us, creating a dark envelope of smoke that spirals along our figures like a hurricane.

The columns of air become thick as the scent of burning chemicals and plastic cling onto the gases, permeating the corridor. The concentrated amount of carbon dixodie starts to exert pressure against my lungs but nothing is as painful as the way my heart is being squeezed by the thoughts of Sebestian. Imagining his hands wrapped around my waist as he draws me close to his chest, his dark smile and witty comeback, his eyes that haunt me, black tunnels that never seem to end.

"Hey, focus here! You get the doors on the right and I'll do the left." Martha yells as we approach a narrow hallway with a row of doors along each side. Forcing a nod to acknowledge her instructions, I struggle to fight the emotions swirling inside my body and heed her words.

Door after door, I slam my fists against the wood and shout for Kirk and Ellie but there's no reply. It is only when I am halfway down the row do I hear the screams, their calls for help.

"This door." I holler at Martha when theur voices are the loudest. Without a second thought, I throw my body against the wood, creating a thin fissure along the middle. The physical pain doesn't match up to the numbness, the emptiness that aches from what happened in the fire so I continue to hurl my entire length against the frame.

Splinters start to fly from the cracks and sparks of pain explodes all across my skin but I keep flinging myself against the wood, struggling to hide the tears that stream down my face in a river that snakes across my cheeks.

"Edward, stop it."

"Stop it!"

I can't feel anything. Or if I do, I'm not sure that my brain catches it.

All I see are Martha's hands wrenching me away from the pile of wood, the metal frames that collasped from the impact of my swings and her figure diving into the room, racing towards the chairs that Martha and Ellie are bound to.

I watch numbly as she unties the rope that chains them both, as she shrieks for my help  and gets no response. As the rope falls away from Martha and Kirk's figures and as they run out of the room, into the smog that's starting to throttle the equipment stashed inside the room.

We're running up the stairs now, we're passing the floor that Sebestian died on and I want to stop, I scream at the others to let me stop, but none of them seem to be listening to me. My voice begins to crack with each wail, each scream of agony that digs harshly against my throat and Martha has to slap a hand over my mouth to stifle the cries that pushes against the boundaries of my chest.

We reach the floor with the only door that is left unlocked and we sweep along with the Resistance members, acting as a swash of water that piles up high and breaks out of the building.

The night air is cool and fresh the way I remembered it. The dip in pressure creates a stinging sensation where the residual tears blotch my face but I can't bring myself to wipe at them.

Everything becomes a blur as we descend the flights of stairs and make it to the front of the building where I realise Fighters are engaging in a battle with the Resistance members.

And I snap out of it.

Word Count: 1063 Words

A/N: I don't really like this chapter. It comes off as bland and tasteless and it kept reinforcing the fact that I made several typos in past chapters. Yeah, I don't like this one bit so I had to end it abruptly, like that.

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