My eyelashes dripped with water, making my vision blurry. I gasped when I woke up, and I had this terrible sensation of water flowing through my lungs. I choked and coughed, blinding searching for oxygen. Because oxygen is what keeps everyone and everything going. Oxygen kept the body running; oxygen kept the fire burning.

“It’s alright, you’re okay now,” a voice comforted me, but it was a voice I didn’t quite recognize. It definitely wasn’t Jaime.

My cheeks burned with embarrassment when I saw Vic hovering over me, holding my cold face in between his hands. I looked down with my eyes, relieved to find a towel draped protectively over me. I still was embarrassed, though, realizing that he had to rip me from the bathtub while I was still naked…

That didn’t matter, though. What mattered was that I was alive. I hadn’t intended to almost drown.

“Where’s Jaime?” I asked Vic, my voice weak and slightly waterlogged. I looked around some more, searching for him, half-expecting to see him sitting numbly in a corner. But he wasn’t anywhere. All I saw was a messy bathroom, puddles of water everywhere. I imagined the way Vic rescued me… hearing my scream, kicking the door in, yanking at my sinking body, water sloshing over the edges, slapping me down onto the ground, making sure I breathed again… I shook my head, trying to erase the thoughts in my head.

“He went for a walk right after you said you were going to take a shower. He needed fresh air or something. He’s not back yet. And then I heard you…” he shook his head, burying his face in his hands. I guiltily grabbed an over-sized t-shirt that was on the ground, slipping it on quickly. It was more comfortable and less revealing than the towel, but it was damp with water, too.

I frowned, sitting up and scooting closer to Vic. I never wanted this to happen. It was never my intention.

“It was an accident, Vic,” I said lowly. “I fell asleep,” I lied. It was a terrible lie, and he knew it. But it was an accident… I just couldn’t tell them why. I intended to resurface after a few moments of being underwater, but when Drew Sanders’ words slit through my memory once again, something inside of me snapped. It shocked me, hearing his voice ride through the small ripples of the water, while everything else was quiet. It was eerie and terrifying, and it almost killed me.

“It still was scary as shit,” he shook his head, not bothering to argue about whether or not it was an accident.

“I’m sorry, Vic, I’m so sorry,” I shook my head, too, throwing my arms around him in a small hug. I couldn’t even imagine finding someone like the way Vic found me. Well, maybe I could imagine it…

“It’s okay,” he said, even though it wasn’t okay. He looked at me the way he looked at me when I was having the seizure. Desperately, panicked. “Just please don’t do anything like this again,” he said, effortlessly being able to read through my lies, as if he knew exactly what was going through my head. “It kills Jaime. You’re killing Jaime,” he said quietly. Guilt stabbed me in the chest. You’re killing Jaime. I was killing the man I loved with my outbursts. “How many people have you killed now, Spencer?”

“It’s so hard,” I choked out, tears forming in my chest.

“I know it is, listen to me, I know,” Vic murmured, squeezing me gently. Something in the tone of his voice told me that he did know. “Just try and try and try. Try everyday. Do it for Jaime. Do it for us. We all love you, and we don’t like to see you slowly fading away like this,” he said. I remained curled up in his lap as he brushed my damp hair with his fingertips.

“I will try,” I whispered with a broken voice. I couldn’t make any promises, though. They didn’t understand the way I was losing control, the way Drew Sanders’ absence was driving me insane, the way he haunted me every night in my nightmares, the way I was way past my breaking point. I had broken a long time ago, and now everything was spilling out, like cold, thick blood, pouring from one’s veins.

“Please do,” he said, his voice sad. “Can I tell you something?” he asked, leaning his head down so he was looking me in the eye.

I nodded.

“I don’t know to what extent my… my problems compare to yours, but I know how you are feeling. I know how it feels like to drown amongst demons that can swim. But then I got a reminder that I had a little brother who looked up to me. I had to remind myself everyday that I had someone to live for, and it worked,” he explained briefly. He then rolled up his sleeve on his right arm, holding out his arm in front of my face. I lightly traced the scars with my fingertips… they were so light, so faded. He was so healed. Could it really be possible for me, though?

“So, please, try and live for Jaime. Try to live for us. We need you here, he needs you here. You have no idea how much he needs you,” he concluded quietly.

“I will try,” I said, not feeling confident, but feeling slightly uplifted. I didn’t think that Vic’s demons involved a tangible, psychotic, serial arsonist, but I appreciated his words, and I remained open minded to them. “Why does Jaime need me so bad?” I asked in a whisper that was barely audible.

“That’s not my story to tell,” he said respectfully. His words made me wonder. Jaime was a notoriously playful, goofy, lighthearted guy, especially before I came along. I have, however, seen this playfulness, especially when we stayed in his house for two weeks after my apartment fire. He has always had a certain, wonderful spark in his eyes. I knew how to read faces, and his always told the truth. He was happy. So why did he need me?If anything, I was the one who was making his spark go out. I was the one who was killing him.

“You said I was killing him,” I mumbled, not really planning on saying that, but not really minding that I did.

“The past few days have been hard for him, Spence. Only the past few days… when you cut… when you get violently ill over a nightmare… when you almost drown yourself in a tub…” he explained. “Most of the time, when you forget about your… your situation… everything is great,” he added. He was right about one thing; when I ignored Drew Sanders and the fear he planted within me, I was so happy and giggly it was almost stupid. I could see how Jaime could fall in love with that Spencer. But I always thought that the depressed and terrified and crazed Spencer was the more prominent part of my personality. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I just saw myself differently than everyone else, like Jaime once said.

“But, Vic. How did you know about the cutting?” I asked, instinctively placing a hand on my upper thigh. Oh, he saw the word burn etched in my skin moments ago when he ripped me from the water. He saw the blood on Jaime when Jaime had ventured across the house to get my fresh, clean clothes. He connected the dots. Of course, Vic, of all people, would make that connection quickly. So I moved on, shaking my head. “How did you know it was a nightmare that triggered me?” I asked, trying hard to keep the nightmare from creeping back into my skull.

“Spencer,” he sighed, looking at me knowingly. I guessed it was obvious. It was a pretty fucking terrible nightmare.

“Vic, Jaime doesn’t even know about this yet,” I reminded him. How could something kill him if he didn’t even know it happened?

“He’s not going to know about this, Spencer. I’m just giving you examples… when you… when you have these… these breakdowns, he sees it, which is what kills him inside. He doesn’t like to see you so scared, so sick, so sad all of the time. It makes him feel like a failure. He wants to fix you,” he said softly. “And he did, for those two weeks,” he added.

“I don’t do it on purpose,” I cried, burying my face into his already damp t-shirt.

“I know that. I know that better than anybody else,” he said. He gently lifted up my chin so I looked him in his eyes. “None of this is your fault, Spencer. Do you understand that? None of this is your fault. It’s all chemical. We all breakdown. It’s just a matter of whether or not we want to get back up,” he said. Damn, I never knew Vic could be so deep, so thought provoking. Did I want to get back up, only to be living in fear again? Not living in fear for myself, though, living in fear for the ones I loved… I would rather submit to the ground, protecting the world from the wrath that associated with me.

But I could see in Vic’s facial expression how genuinely he believed in his words. Well, of course he believed in them. They were what saved him. I admired Vic for his strength, and I admired him for the way he tried to save me.

But I knew it wouldn’t be enough. I could feel something change inside of me. I knew that something was not a good thing. There would be no fixing. There would only be fire.

~~

I laid in bed with Jaime, curled up against him, our bodies a perfect match. I loved him. I never thought I would use that verb again, “to love”, but Jaime made that possible. He saved me emotionally, although it wouldn’t last much longer. The love could last, maybe… but not the relationship. I started to think about what Vic had said. He pleaded me to live for Jaime, to live for all of them.

What Vic didn’t understand, though, was how different my situation was from his. It wasn’t like I wanted to die. It was that I had to. In order for me to live for them, I had to leave. I could leave, I could go somewhere else, but that would be too hard. That was why I had to die. I knew it deep down in my soul that I didn’t belong on this planet anymore. I didn’t belong in Jaime’s arms, either. I wanted it, I wanted him, I wanted so badly to lead a normal life. Was that too much to ask? What did I ever do in my life that made me deserve this torture? Sometimes, you want what you can’t have.

I didn’t know when I would do it. I didn’t know how I would do it. Laying here with Jaime made me scared to die. I didn’t want to leave him; he made me feel safe. The safe feelings wouldn’t last, though. They never lasted. The two weeks at Jaime’s house I felt safe. It was a nice break. But, of course, it had to go to an end. Just like now. This couldn’t last forever, and it wouldn’t.

I slid out of bed. I needed to learn a few things before I… before I tried…

It was just so hard to think about. Some of the time all I wanted was to die and to disappear forever, but then other times I wanted to indulge in the tiny piece of happiness some mysterious force granted me. Jaime, Tony, Mike, and Vic; they were my temporary home. I guessed we were all meant to feel a little bit alive before we died.

Jaime didn’t notice me leaving, already in a deep sleep. His arms reached out for me, but, given that I wasn’t there anymore, he ended up holding a pillow, taking in a deep breath of my scent that lingered there. I smiled weakly at him.

On the balls of my feet, I lightly darted away to the kitchen, opening Vic’s computer. The brightness almost blinded me, so I turned it down, also just in case the light peered into one of the sleeping boys’ room.

When my eyes adjusted to the screen, I couldn’t help but notice the document that was already up.

“Now as the rain falls like shattered pieces of glass from the sky, we bleed like water colors and drunken pastels down the stairways. And I ask myself, why do I still pray? When will it end? And who fucking cares? I swear to God, I did what I could! I practically begged you, I pretended everything was fine! A soul sacrifice! An American nightmare. I’d rather be dead…”

I knew what this was; it was lyrics to a song for the new album that they were releasing soon. I felt dirty and minimized the document, not wanting to snoop further, but also incredibly emotional thanks to the lyrics. Vic always had a certain knack for wording things. I couldn’t shake these words from my mind, though, as they related to me so easily.

“When will it end?”

“I’d rather be dead.”

I shook my head and focused on my real purpose here. I opened the Internet browser, going straight to Google.

“Martin family house fire,” I typed into the search bar. Several hits came up. This had been a popular news story “back in the day”, apparently.

Why have I never done this before?

“Alan, Monica, and James Martin perish in tragic house fire.”

“All but one die in a family of four in horrific fire.”

“Spencer Martin: the story behind her family’s death.”

“The luckiest girl alive: Spencer Martin.”

“Five year old left with nothing and no one after family dies.”

I shook my head, the title’s of the articles hitting me hard. I never expected to react this way.

Before I clicked on any of them, though, I opened a new tab, wanting to search for something different.

“Moore foster family house fire,” I typed, keeping it simple. This one came up with a few results, too.

“Jed, Marla, and Mackenzie Moore tragically die in fire.”

“The tragic life of Spencer Martin.”

“Little girl traumatized; suffers but survives yet another house fire.”

I went back to the other tab, clicking on the article titled: “All but one die in a family of four in a horrific fire.” This article was straight fact, reporting the events of that night. “Flames spread throughout home…. Parents and young son trapped on second level… five year old daughter found huddled in the kitchen, charred but O.K.… house completely destroyed… no survivors, but Spencer Martin… to be sent to foster care…”

I exited the article, not being able to handle reading anymore. The more I read about that night, the more it invaded my memory. I didn’t want to think about what happened. I wanted to think about why, and how.

So, I clicked on the next article: “Spencer Martin: the story behind her family’s death.” What was the story?

My chest tightened up when I read the article. I had to read it twice to fully understand. My mind felt numb, my vision was blotchy as I held back tears.

“Martin house fire a tragic accident… five year old Spence Martin was the only survivor… matches found next to the charred but alive child… playing with matches… an accident… no charges filed… an accident…”

I felt like I was going to be sick. Why didn’t anybody tell me about this? I slammed the laptop shut, not wanting to read any more about my past while my present life suddenly made sense.

I killed my own parents when I was five years old, and Drew Sanders was forcing me to relive it everyday. I still didn’t know who he was or why he cared, but it was all clear now. It was my entire fault, and now I deserved to die.

I opened the laptop again, needing to look one more thing up. I needed to know how Drew Sanders related to my family; I needed to know why he took such an interest in their death, in me…

As I started to type his name, though, I felt arms wrap around my shoulders. “Jaime, no,” I whimpered softly. I wanted to be alone. I never wanted to see the daylight again. I needed to find out one more thing, and then I wanted to die. I played with fire. Weren’t parents supposed to tell their children not to play with fire?

“No, you’re coming with me. We have to talk,” he said. He said these words with more force than I expected. I felt my stomach go to my throat. Why, though? What could be so bad about a conversation? I was going to die, anyway.

“I talked to Vic, today,” Jaime said. We laid back down on the bed, facing each other. His hands snaked around my waist, pulling me into him. He talked into my neck.

“So did I,” I said quietly.

“He told me,” Jaime said. He didn’t sound overly distressed, though. Did Vic not tell him about my incident? I didn’t want to give anything away, so I just waited for him to continue. “I need you to know why I need you,” he said, pecking my neck after he said that. “Maybe then you’ll realize how important you are to stay alive,” I heard him mumble into my skin. I closed my eyes. He knew about the bathtub occurrence. I felt sort of ticked at Vic for telling Jaime without telling me he was going to, especially after he said that Jaime was never going to found out, but I knew he did it with our best interest in mind.

I didn’t say anything, waiting for Jaime to tell me his story.

“Four years back, before the band existed, I was clinically depressed,” he began. My eyes widened in shock. I couldn’t imagine Jaime depressed… he was so hilarious and happy and goofy. He continued. “Nothing terrible happened in my life that defined my depression, though. My family loved me, although they didn’t particularly support my aspirations to be in a band. But that’s beside the point. I kind of just hated life for no real reason. I was really tired all of the time, and I was unmotivated. High school I got the worst grades, and college was never an option. I worked a shitty job and lived in a shitty apartment. Like Vic told you earlier, it was chemical. It wasn’t my fault, really. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. That was just how I was. But, anyway, I was not happy. The main reason was because I was alone. But then I met the guys, we formed the band, and I moved to San Diego. Things were looking up for me, and I was happy to have these new friends and a future. The only problem was I was alone at night. Nightmares attacked me; I actually used to get such terrible nightmares that I had to go on medication for them. They were awful, despite the fact that they were also random and irrelevant to my daily life. But that doesn’t matter when you’re asleep. When you’re asleep, everything feels real, no matter how much it wouldn’t bother you in real life,” he shook his head. I didn’t bother to ask what one of those nightmares was, especially because I knew he would never say. “The nightmares were just a part of my depression. I couldn’t stop them without medication. But I was sick of always having to rely on meds, you know? Anyway, two years into the band, things were looking up for us. I still had the nightmares, night was still my enemy, but it was okay because I was happy during the daytime. Nobody knew. Well, no fans knew; only the guys and a few others knew,” he continued to hold me close as he talked. “I did sleep around a little, thinking that if I brought a girl home it would fill the emptiness. That never worked out in the long term, obviously. I was having a good time, but I was still unhappy, and I was still getting nightmares. So now that brings us to the present day. When I saw you, I knew you were like me. I could just sense it,” he said, squeezing me a little when he mentioned me. “You were alone. I knew it because the first day we hung out, I saw it in your eyes. The way you longed for the company… We were both lonely. I needed someone to hold,” he squeezed me again. “I needed someone to fill the hole and get rid of the nightmares. And I knew, somehow, that you were the one who could cure me. And you did,” he finished, kissing me in the neck again.

“Jaime…” I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t expect any of this. “I had no idea…” I said lowly into his collarbone. This just made everything so much more complicated.

“Spencer, I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to pressure you, though. I’ve heard way too many stories about people in relationships who are afraid to break up due to the other person being depressed,” he said quickly.

“Jaime, that’s ridiculous! I know what you mean, but I don’t think that… I love you, and I’m glad that we can help each other,” I said. My words were true, but I could still feel the tightness in my throat. This story hit me hard. I was essentially Jaime’s medication. He didn’t have nightmares and he was genuinely happy. But the only problem was that I was still a physical threat, and that part of me would never go away.

I was conflicted. I have finally found the answer to my parents’ death. I killed them myself. It didn’t matter that it was an accident; my conscious ate me alive for it, anyway. And then Drew Sanders came along—I still wasn’t sure about his connection with my parents, but I knew that their death was personal to him—and he basically dedicated his existence to ruining mine, to making sure I felt guilty. Making sure I killed every person I loved. This fact made me sure I wanted to die.

But then there was Jaime. I never thought that somebody would actually need me like he did. I thought that dying would make him and the other guys’ life better and less complicated. I thought that my death would ultimately save them. But after hearing his story, dying would kill him as much as living would.

Dying would kill him as much as living would. So which one—dying or living—was the better option?

For now, I was leaning towards living... maybe I could fight for Jaime. Drew Sanders was only human, after all. He couldn't go on forever, so maybe there still was a chance for Jaime and I to make it through together. His story sent a wonderful feeling of hope through me because it gave me even more of a reason to stay alive for him. I loved him before I knew about this, but now I loved him even more.

This might sound terrible and selfish, but I would rather live for someone who was alive than die for somebody who was already dead.

Notes

Hi, so this is a pretty long chapter. I basically worked on all night haha. But the next two chapters have been written previously already, and they are actually going to be the last chapters of this story! i will update them shortly.

HOWEVER i am brainstorming for a sequel, so I hope that's okay!

PS the Jaime "story" in this update is completely made up if you were wondering. it sort of just happened lol