Through the Fire (Daughter of Fire, #1)(33)
My eyes closed tightly at his mention of the “T” word. There had only been two people in my life I had actually trusted; one was dead, and the other had left me alone in my darkest hour.
“I just have a secret that I shouldn’t tell anyone.”
“You know my biggest secret.”
It was true. He’d shared with me the full extent of his responsibility for his wife’s death. I doubted that he’d even told his family that it had been a drunken, jealous rage that had caused the accident.
“I can’t tell you,” I said.
He nodded his understanding.
“But I can show you.”
Raising one eyebrow and taking another swig from the bottle, he leaned forward intently.
“Do you have anything flammable?” I asked, reaching for a paper bag when he offered it to me. Taking a deep breath, I held the bag between my fingers. Concentrating as hard as I could through the vestiges of the alcohol buzz that was fast leaving me, I forced heat into my hands and guided the flames toward the paper. As soon as the bag was lit, I dropped it onto the floor to ensure the flames that were now outside of my body couldn’t hurt me.
I looked back up to Brian, expecting to find him in the same position, but instead, he was standing on the bed with eyes wide open in shock. “What the fuck was that?”
Glancing between the burning remnants of the bag and his frightened face, I said, “That’s my secret.”
“You’re a freak!”
“No!” I pressed my hand to my mouth. The fear in his eyes as he looked at me was all too familiar and made my heart ache.
“You’re a fucking freak! How could you just pretend that you’re normal when you can—”
“I’m not a freak! I’m not evil!” Tears burned my eyes. In an instant, he’d sharpened everything we’d shared into a dagger forged from my past and plunged it deep into my heart.
His words and rejection shattered my hold on sanity. Not because I cared about him, but because it was a sharp reminder of Clay and how he’d reacted when we’d first kissed. Even after I’d thought we could put it behind us and we shared a blissful week together, my secrets had destroyed us. My nature was ultimately what drove Clay away. And now it had collected another casualty.
I reached for Brian, and he snapped his head away quickly. “Get out of here before I call the police. Or the FBI, or goddamn anyone that will listen to me because that . . . that’s not normal.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, I leaped away from him and ran. He was right; I was a freak, and all I did was hurt the people who got too close to me.
Tears flowed from me as I raced away from him, wishing I could rewind time and find a way to have made Clay stay with me regardless of the dangers I would have faced. He’d left because he wanted me to be safe, but he didn’t understand. Even if I was strong enough to be able to survive the Rain, my fragile soul couldn’t handle the way the world snapped every dream I had away long before it could come to fruition.
CHAPTER TWELVE
REELING FROM THE second major rejection in my life, I ran—heading anywhere I could as long as it was away.
I was so shaken, scared, and confused, that I honestly didn’t even care what happened to me anymore. I wanted a refuge from the agony, but it was impossible because the pain came from places deep within me.
Days and nights passed in a blur of absolute cold and hunger. Even the heat of my body wasn’t enough to keep me going. The lack of food meant I had very little energy to spare. Compelled to escape the darkness that had taken root in my soul, I continued wandering aimlessly until I was to the point of collapsing. After the latest rejection I’d suffered at the hands of Brian, any modicum of hope I’d had for happiness had ebbed away.
By the time I reached New York City, on an unusually cold April evening, I had no recollection of how I’d gotten there or where I really was—I barely even knew who I was.
My meals were scarce, stolen or sourced from trashcans. Showers and hygiene were both practically non-existent. My hair, which after leaving Charlotte had always been in a high ponytail, clung together in clumps that rested heavily against my dirty face. The red-golden sheen shone through occasionally despite the layers of oil and grime.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t even attempt to conceal my true identity—if the Rain saw through the dirt to realize what I was and caught me, I figured they would probably be doing me a favor. The words I’d said to Clay came back to haunt me. It would have been kinder for him to kill me—at least I wouldn’t have had to suffer through my misery.
Although it did little to keep the biting Manhattan wind away from my skin, I clung tightly to the one coat I had. It hung so loosely on my frame that I almost could have wrapped it around myself twice. Eventually, somewhere near a darkened alley, my legs gave out beneath me. Forcing myself back onto my feet, I dragged myself into the alley and hid beneath some scaffolding.
Hunger caused my stomach to twist wickedly in on itself as the cold wind scorched my desiccated throat. If anyone cared enough about my appearance or behavior to question me, I didn’t think I would have a voice to respond. Everyone I encountered rushed away, with both their gaze and feet giving me a wide berth. The few people who did bother to look my way in pity quickly turned their heads away, no doubt in response to the dead and empty look in my eyes.