Staring at my hand, I inched my fingers closer to Flame’s, feeling the heavy tension rolling off him in waves. I studied my little finger, so close to his, and added, “And I want to replace their touch with yours. I want to wake up with your arm around my waist, keeping me safe.”
“Maddie,” Flame groaned, but it was pained and regretful. “I don’t know if—”
“But I shall settle for your fingers wrapped in mine. I would be content to awaken knowing you were holding me in some small way.”
Flame’s eyes were darting from side to side, lost in thought. I shuffled my body closer until our faces were mere inches apart. I could feel Flame’s quick warm breath ghosting my cheek. I fought back the urge to back away. “I do not know who comes for you each night. And I do not know what he did to you. But I believe…” I shook my head, fighting the dark pit that was forming in my heart, “but I believe it is similar to what was done to me. And I believe that with my touch, maybe he might fade from your world too.”
Flame sucked in a sharp breath and he closed his eyes, clearly fighting something in his head. When they opened, water filled his gaze and he said, “He called me a retard. Because…” he breathed deep, “because I didn’t see things like everyone else.” I froze, listening intently to him speak. He continued. “I know I’m different. I knew he hated me because I was different. Other kids would laugh at me. They would laugh at something I said or something I did. And every time that happened it would upset me, because I didn’t know what I’d done wrong. And then I’d be punished. Over and over again, I’d be punished. So I stopped speaking to anyone, because I didn’t want them to laugh. I didn’t want to be punished. But that made him madder. He got mad when I spoke, but then he got mad when I didn’t. I sat on my own playing with my toys and it made him mad. But the other kids wouldn’t play with me, because I was me.”
My heart squeezed and I fought back tears, listening to what he went through as a child. A sheen of sweat broke out on his face. “He got angrier and angrier with me, until one day, I heard why I was different. Because I had evil in my soul and flames running in my blood.” Flame shook his head. “I tried to get them out to show him I was trying. I tried to get them out so he wouldn’t hate me anymore, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t get them out.”
“Flame…” I whispered as tears ran down my cheeks.
“So he took me to Pastor Hughes. And Pastor Hughes brought the snakes. They held me down and snakes slithered on my skin. They needed to see if I was evil.”
I fought for breath. I did not understand. “Snakes? They put snakes on you?” I asked.
“Snakes are the manifestation of the devil, Pastor Hughes would say. If they bit you, it was because you were a sinner.” Flame’s eyes glazed over, and his skin jumped. “And they bit me. They hurt me. They felt the flames in my blood. They were drawn to the evil in my blood.”
“No…” I hushed out.
“The church hurts people. They hold you down and hurt people. And then he told me he had to release the flames. He came every night to release the flames.”
Flame’s body turned rigid. “But nothing worked. The flames were still there. I’m still different. I don’t understand people. People don’t understand me.”
I took a deep breath, concentrating on his every word. Then, meeting my eyes, he said, “I know I’m different. I know I don’t see the world like everyone else does. But I want to see your world, Maddie. Even if it’s the only one I’ll ever understand.”
My heart beat faster as his dark eyes penetrated mine, and then we both stilled when we felt it.
My breathing increased with our gazes locked, and when I looked down, my hand was covering his. Gently lying on top, small against large. I worked on keeping calm, I tried desperately to not feel fear.
When I glanced up, Flame’s eyes were as wide as saucers and his head had begun to twitch. “Maddie,” he whispered, then blew out a sharp breath.
His eyes snapped to our joined hands, then up again.
“You feel warm,” I whispered, sensing heat radiating from his skin. My heart was pounding, but staring at our hands, I ghosted my little finger over his skin. Flame froze and groaned at the same time. But he did not move his hand.
“You are soft,” I added and flickered my eyes to his. Flame was already watching me. I swallowed back the nerves starting to take me hostage under his stare. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and breathed through his nose.
I watched him, my heart sinking when I believed he would pull away. To my complete surprise, in a flash, his hand flipped over, his palm instantly meeting mine. I gasped at the feeling of unfamiliar warmth. But then Flame spread his fingers and threaded them through mine. His grip, at first was soft, then his fingers tightened on mine… and we simply breathed.
We stared.
But we breathed.
Enraptured by the sight, and overcome by such emotion, I stayed silent. But then Flame, said, “It’s like your picture.”
My eyes lifted to his and I swallowed. “It’s like my picture,” I whispered, feeling butterflies flood my insides. A feeling of hope took me over, and I squeezed our melded hands harder.
Flame did not react.
“I can breathe,” Flame said suddenly. My body surged with light. I could clearly see the disbelief in his stare.