PS \ The City Sleeps In Flames

"I just don't get it," Lace whispered. Her pale arms wrapped around her chest, thin fingers gripping her upper arms. I watched the way her eyes reflected the fire. It was fascinating, the flashes of red light against dark brown glass. I turned my attention to the house. The firefighters weren't even there yet. They were slow, but I didn't mind. I had nothing to lose in that house, and the fire just kept my attention.
Lace, however, had everything to lose. She'd been there as long as I could remember, and from what she told me, she'd been there as long as she could remember too. It was the only home she'd ever known. I'd never known one at all. I always had a new wardrobe, new possessions, I left everything. For me, it was just starting over all over again. For Lace, it was starting over for the first time.
I had never known a real friend. Lace was the closest thing, I supposed, but at every home I'd lived at I'd had someone close. I'd lost all of them, and it seemed impossible that if I lost Lace I'd feel anything more than I had all the times before. I didn't think about it, but there was a sense of relief that made me feel sort of - floaty. If Lace hadn't gotten out safely- I didn't want to think about it.
I tore my eyes from the fire, facing Lace again. "I'm sorry," I said, as though this had nothing to do with me. I comforted her as though I was a bystander who had come upon this scene, who had known nothing about Lace other than the fact that she just lost her house. She stared into my eyes, and I knew that she hadn't looked away from the flames before that moment.
Lace didn't say anything, but continued to stare blankly at me. After it got uncomfortable, I looked away, and she did the same. I felt tiny hands groping at my leg, and I looked down. A small, five-year-old girl looked up at me with huge blue eyes, thin tracks through the soot on her face. Her arms wrapped around my legs, as well as they could have done. "Jackie," I sighed. "Where's Kasey?"
She sniffled, lifting a trembling arm to point a finger at the burning house. My mouth formed an O, but I didn't speak. Jackie pressed her face into my thigh, and I could feel tears soaking through my pajama pants. I pressed my palm against the top of Jackie's head, playfully tousling her hair. I was trying to be comforting, but I knew I was just making it awkward. How do you explain to a five-year-old girl that her sister is dead, or will be? Somehow, I felt that she knew it, but that felt even worse. What kind of world is it where a five-year-old girl loses not only her parents, but her sister, the only family she has?
The house was still burning, but I could faintly hear the sirens. The ones of us who could have escaped had already, and it wasn't likely that anyone else could get out, even with the firefighters' help. I wondered how many children were still trapped in there. It didn't matter, though, because I couldn't do a damn thing. All I could do was pointlessly attempt to comfort Jackie and attempt to decipher the emotions that crossed Lace's face.
For what seemed like days compressed into minutes, I watched firefighters put out the blaze. By the time they were done, what was left standing of the house looked like a cartoon after an explosion. I wasn't sure if what I was feeling was sadness, sympathy, or something completely different. It wasn't my home. Nothing was.
Jackie was crying harder, but I couldn't stand being cried on anymore. I gently pressed her away. She sniffled, sitting cross-legged on the grass. Lace stood stock-still, glassy-eyed, still transfixed by the fire that wasn't even burning anymore. I wondered if the flames were permanently imprinted on her vision.
I turned, facing the building we were standing in front of. It was empty, but it had always been. I walked slowly, my feet touching the steps, and my hand ultimately touching the door knob. Before I could turn it and escape inside, a voice stopped me in my tracks. "Jolynn?"
My breath caught in my chest. I didn't turn to see the face that had spoken, because I knew the voice too well. "Patrick." I didn't say anything else. He knew everything. He always had.
"I don't get it, Jolynn," he said. That was the second time I'd heard those words that night. I didn't want to hear them again, because I didn't get it either, and I didn't know why everyone had to ask me to explain it. However, I knew that his near-enough plea for explanation was much different than Lace's. Still, I couldn't think of an answer now any more than I could have earlier. "Why?"
Patrick, of all people, deserved truth. I loved him, and I longed for him to know exactly why everything that had happened that night happened. In my mind, I couldn't formulate a satisfactory answer. Nothing seemed to do my scrambled thoughts justice. I knew if I opened my mouth, everything that would come out would be jibberish.
"Jolynn," he began again. His hand touched my shoulder, but as familiar as his touch was, it was almost painful. I pulled away, facing him for the first time. His eyes pleaded for answers. My mouth pleaded to give them. "You know nothing, nothing would ever change how I feel about you."
I couldn't believe that. Everything had changed the way I felt about me, so why would he be any different? How could I explain to him, when I'd yet to explain it to myself? I guess I was always too proud to run away. Plenty of kids ran away, and no one ever looked for them. The people who took care of us would probably have been happier had we all ran away.
But I was too proud.
It was so easy, it had been so easy, but I hadn't really thought about it. Just let it all burn down. Let it burn, and none of us would have to deal with it anymore. I didn't consider how many of us would have to escape. I didn't once think of how many of us couldn't escape. Now, it was all my fault, and my mind refused to process it all.
"I doubt that," I mumbled. Patrick sighed, and pressed his lips to mine, as if in encouragement or assurance. I kissed back for half a second, then pulled away from him again.
"Jolynn, I mean it." He fumbled with the hem of his t-shirt. "I know you did it already, I just wanted to know why." He didn't look back at me.
"I don't know why," I said, focusing on the floor below me. "I honestly don't."
He nodded. "Everyone made it out but Kasey. She got trapped in their, trying to make sure Jackie was s-safe- something collapsed and she couldn't get out. They said it was smoke inhalation..."
I cried for the first time that night. Everything was too clear now. Kasey was dead, Jackie had lost the only family she had, and it was my fault. I didn't know if I could really take the knowledge. This was not supposed to happen. "Patrick," I said, holding back sobs.
He hugged me tightly. "It's okay, babe."
"No, it's not," I insisted, taking swift steps away from him, away from the smoldering ruins of the house. I could hear him following me, so I walked faster. I just needed to get out of there.
"Where are you going?" he asked, and I looked at him again. His face was still full of questions, and I knew I couldn't answer a single one. I bit my lip, focusing on the sky, a bit obscured by black smoke.
"I'm running," I said. "I'm running like I should have done before."
With that, I walked away from the mass of huddled, sobbing children and teenagers, away from the smoking, black wreckage of the house, away from everything I'd ever done, to God knows where.
these are my last words, and this is my last breath.
Erm, I'm pretty sure Jolynn's not an arsonist. However, I can't be sure... =]
uh, feedback?
cboxes are being screwy. ew.