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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Heat - 9. Chapter 8

CW: physical abuse of a minor (implied, not shown)

Chapter 8

It takes us a couple hours to realize neither of us actually knows what we meant by “hanging out”. After breakfast we moved, somewhat awkwardly, over to the couch and with no better ideas I turned on the tv. “So, um… anything you want to watch on Netflix? I also have like… Hulu.”

“Are those channels?”

“You don’t know what - actually never mind that makes perfect sense. Yeah they are sort of like channels.”

“Ok. Turn on whichever is your favorite and we can see what’s on.” Hmm. I don’t know that I have the mental capacity to explain streaming to him right now or maybe ever so I just go ahead and put on some awful new reality show where horrible people aren’t allowed to have sex with other horrible people or else a robot will be very disappointed in them (they do anyway). The irony of watching this show while sitting less than a foot from Asher (still shirtless, by the way) isn’t lost on me but I figured if I was going to be Asher’s unofficial guide to non-cult life I might as well toss him into the deep end of reality tv and see if he sinks.

“So they aren’t allowed to have sex with each other, right? It really seems like this should be easier than they are making it. Not having sex with a person isn’t exactly the hardest task.” Speak for yourself buddy.

I watch him out of the corner of my eye as he reclines. His jaw is lined with the faintest hints of stubble this morning and his gray eyes are so focused on the television, intent like they are trying to take in every solitary moment of the silly nonsense flashing across the screen. He leans just slightly forward, occasionally laughing at the scripted antics and his curls are matted, sticking up a little on one side from sleep.

I jump a little when he says “Is everything ok?”

“What? I mean yes, of course everything is ok.” I reply, a little lost.

“Well it’s just you’ve been kind of… staring at me for the last ten minutes. I’m sorry if I did anything wrong.” Damn. Caught.

“No! No, you haven’t done anything wrong. All is good. Hey, do you want to go out and do something? I’m a little sick of being inside.” Nice. Subtly change the topic of conversation. Expert social engineering.

“Sure! Do you have anything in mind? We could go for a run. I could use a few more pointers.”

“Sunday’s usually my off day, actually. You have to take at least a day off a week if you want to have the same knees your entire life.”

“Oh no! Not your knees. You need those for things. Ok, no running. How about…” he trails off, clearly very deep in thought.

“I know of a place we could go.” There’s this spot where my dad used to take my sister and I when we were little. He taught her how to fish there (and tried to do the same for me but I’ve never had the patience for it). It’s really pretty. Well. Pretty for here. “If you're down for a bit of a drive, that is.”

“Yeah I’m down for a drive! Anywhere you want to go.” Anywhere?

He gets dressed in his clothes from yesterday, now freshly laundered, and we load up into my car for the fifteen minute drive outside of town. Asher is quiet on the way, mostly just looking out the car window at the muddy stream that runs along the highway and the squat trees that line its banks. We pull into the gravel parking lot of the local reservoir, the roar of the open flood gates already loud through the car’s windows.

“In spring the lake fills up and they have to open the dam to let water pass through. It’s too dangerous to swim right now but the open gates are worth coming out anyway if only to watch the water fall.” I guide him to the narrow desire path that leads down to my favorite spot. A small rise that I still think of as “the Cliff” because that’s what my sister and I called it as kids. I sit with my feet dangling over the Cliff’s edge and they just about touch the ground below but from here we have a perfect view of thousands of gallons of water rushing over the dam. It’s smaller than I remember but for someone who’s barely ever been out of this town and has never been out of this state it’s still bigger than anything else I’ve ever seen.

He leans in close to me to speak over the roar of the running water. “That’s pretty impressive.” he says and I can tell he means it so I don’t even feel ashamed at just how small it really is. “Little ironic to bring me here of all places though, don’t you think?” he grins and elbows my ribs to show he’s just teasing.

I had actually forgotten, for a moment. I lean in to him. “Right. About that. I actually have a few more questions if that’s ok.”

“You can ask anything, Kenan. I’ve already trusted you with my life, what’s a few more secrets?” Again with the earnestness. I don’t know how to handle this much honest, direct communication. This is very firmly not how I grew up. I wish I could stop looking at his lips.

“So… um… ehem. I was going to say… so what I was gonna say was you mentioned you were made on purpose. What was that purpose? There has to be a reason to do something like that.” Remember how he was so worried I would swallow my tongue when I was passed out? Seems like the real concern is swallowing it when I’m awake.

“Ahh… about that. So that’s kinda why they are so mad that I’m gone. It’s not super hard to just make a new one of me, really, they’ve done it many times. The problem is if there’s someone like me out there then it’s possible for me to be… used… by other people.” He isn’t looking at me as he says this, instead he has picked a stick up off the ground and is using it to draw spirals in the dirt.

“What does it mean to be ‘used’?” I don’t like the way that sounds and I really don’t like the way he closes off when he says it. It’s like he’s folded everything that makes him him and just… put it away. His posture has changed, curled in on itself protectively, and he won’t take his eyes off the ground.

“Well, I’m a bit like that -” he points to the flooding dam “ - a pool of flame that gets so full sometimes that it runs over the sides. I can’t help it, and I can’t control it. But the water here isn’t just pouring over the sides. It also gets pumped back to town. It gets used. You can do that with me too. Draw a portion of my power to use however you like.” he bites his lower lip when he stops talking and it’s only now that I notice two crescent shaped scars just where his teeth land, like he has bitten hard enough to draw blood.

“Does it… does it hurt?”

“Not always. Sometimes it even feels good, like built up pressure is being released. Other times though, when it’s forced…” a tear runs down his cheek and he swipes at it like he doesn’t want me to see him cry. “I can’t go back there, Kenan.”

“Hey” I reach up and gently move his hand away from his face. It’s nearly scalding. “It’s ok now. You’re here with me. We’ll figure something out together, yeah?” Instead of having the desired effect of comforting him all this seems to do is make it worse and now he’s crying for real, moving from a few tears to big heaving sobs. Then he starts to… flicker just a bit at the edges. Like there are flames hovering in the air just over his skin. The heat is pouring off him now in waves. He catches his breath for a moment and through sobs says “I’m sorry, I’m sorry you have to back away now!”

I scramble backwards in the dirt, far enough that the heat no longer hurts as the flickering increases in speed and intensity until his entire body is rippling with light. He peels the shirt over his head, kicks off his shoes, throws off his pants in one fluid motion just before the flames overtake him. It’s like watching someone dissolve. One moment there is skin and flesh and the next there is nothing but flame burning so hot I can hear the roar of it over the dam. It’s so bright that it’s hard to look at directly but I don’t look away because I can still hear him sob through the flame. He is curled up on the ground, charring the loose earth beneath him black with every movement.

“Asher! Asher can you hear me?” I yell over the noise, at the top of my lungs.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Please just go away. I’m so sorry.” The tears now run down his face as drops of pure glowing flame and the sobs draw ever more air into his flickering, roaring lungs. I don’t know what to do.

“Asher listen, I’m not gonna go away. I’m right here. Feel what you need to feel and I’ll still be here when you’re done, ok? I promise.” Why is it that when people need me to be strong that is always when I am at my most helpless. I remember my sister, curled up on her bed shaking with sobs as I stood in the door frame and watched silently. I remember my dad, how he used to pretend to hide his drinking. How I used to pretend not to notice. I remember crying alone in my room every night for a year. I remember how much I wished someone, anyone, was there when the tears finally stopped and all that was left was a dark home that was one person too quiet. I crawl towards Asher, as close as I can get. “It’s bad now, Asher, I know. It’s bad and it’s gonna keep being bad but I’m here. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

And, miraculously, the heat begins to recede. His sobs slow and he stops shaking. I watch the flame sink back into skin and hair and as soon as I can I go to him and I lay an arm over him, not caring that he is still too hot to touch. I pull him to me and just hold him. “You’re touching me” he says into my shoulder.

“I know.” I say. It hurts but not touching him would hurt far more right now.

I expect him to ask me to let him go but instead all he says is “thank you.”

Copyright © 2019 MythOfHappiness; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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