Well, as you can see I survived. Unless of course I suppose if you imagine I wrote this through a medium or otherwise possessed someone. Well, I suppose you have the right to your own interpretation of events and after all, what can I know about my own life anyhow?
But the point is whatever that experience was I must have moved beyond it to have been writing this whole tale to you so far.
In that moment, in the basement of that man with the blue tinted glasses and with my father who could tolerate fire demons without any explanation and who could shoot dead two people with a handgun, I felt there was nothing for me to do but die from exhaustion.
I had thought and thought for years and I had never experienced events like these. I hadn't even had time to mourn my labradoodle puppy.
The Ensure I was drinking was just reminding me that I hadn't eaten all day.
And no one was even impressed with me turning into flames any more.
The guy with the blue glasses sprayed the table I was sitting at with a fire extinguisher and then went upstairs to get something for my dad to eat. He didn't even rush when he went to get the fire extinguisher.
I was upset then, because I had felt, for maybe the first time, that I really was going to be exceptional. Even if I was going to be a fire demon and even if I was going to walk the streets in perpetual regret and dismay, at least people would say, 'Hey, that fire demon, well shoot I've never seen one of them before.' But I couldn't even get people to say that.
"What do you think of Billy?" asked my dad.
I shrugged.
"Yeah I know," he said, "he's creepy as all hell. He owes me a few hundred thousand dollars. I gotta get him to lead us to his safe. Once it's open, you go ahead and burn him up, but make it look like an accident."