The consuming fire blazed mercilessly. Noxious fumes swirled and billowed, tainting the azure sky of the placid countryside. In the roaring of the orange flames, nothing could be heard except the gut-wrenching howls of a young girl. Uncontrollably, she wept and screamed at the top of her lungs for anyone to save her family. Yet, no one came. The once luxurious porch of her home collapsed, crashing the whole structure downwards. Coughing and choking in the thick, dark smoke, she struggled in vain to find a way into the house. Deafened by her own sobs, she barely noticed the faint cry coming out from the second-floor bedroom. The girl looked up, hanging by a thread of hope, but the wooden bay windows shattered just as another cry rang out. Pieces of the broken glass rained down while the tiled roof caved in with an ear-splitting blast. No longer able to hold back the tears, she crumbled to the ground and poured out her misery in an overwhelming flood. Above her, the glamorous Victorian mansion flared, disintegrating slowly into nothing but ashes.
"Asherah, something's burning," a blond boy snickered by her ear. With his scarred hand, he raised a cigarette lighter right above her face, flipping it open repeatedly.
As the rancid waves of smoke hit her nostrils, Asherah jolted awake with sheer panic and alarm. Looking around desperately, she saw a mob of kids, no more than 14 years old, all crowded beside her bunk. Smirks pulled at the corner of their mouths as they watched her frightened reaction in amusement. Rage immediately permeated her mind as Asherah realized it was merely a prank. Nonetheless, the fire still terrified her as though she was back in the devouring flames.
"Go...go away!" She whimpered and pulled her tattered blanket up and over her bare arms. Shivering, she scooted as far as she could be away from them. She squeezed her eyes shut and secretly wished that all the kids could disappear, yet the blond boy pounced on her bunk in a flash and advanced slowly like a predator towards its cornered prey.
"Asherah," he sang in mockery, "don't you like fire?"
A small droplet of tear rolled down her left cheek. With quivering hands, she wiped it away quickly, as if she was afraid of showing her vulnerability.
"Get away from me!" She demanded as more tears threatened to gush out. In her almond-shaped eyes, dark shades of gold and brown swirled, casting light flecks of blue around her hazel irises. As locks of blond curls fell in front of the boy's face, he crept closer and closer, fixating his sharp blue eyes on her hazel ones in a trance. The orange flame flickered in both of their eyes, dancing wilder and wilder as though it itself was a reflection of the tension between them. All of a sudden, the boy thrust the brass lighter into her chest, making the torn blanket sizzle dangerously in response.
"Jonas, let her be!" A deep voice boomed from the far end of the sleeping quarters, silencing the clamorous mob in an instant. Every single child turned toward the source of the voice, with some averting their gazes in terror and veneration.
"Good morning, Father Salvatore," they whispered monotonously.
"Don't you all have chores to do? I certainly did not raise you to be indolent brats," the priest replied without the slightest movement, yet everyone seemed to be slapped by an invisible force and dispersed down the hallways with their heads bowed. As the last of the children hurried out of the vast chamber, Father Salvatore strode toward the occupied bunk bed purposefully. In his black clergy shirt and matching shoes, he carried an aura so intimidating that the blood drained quickly from Jonas' face.
"Father, I..." his voice faltered as the man came to a stop just inches before him. His grasp loosened on the lighter, clicking it shut and letting it fall with a soft thud. A whiff of strong alcohol filled the air around them, making the boy gag and tremble in fright.
