I held on to Jaime tightly as we slept. I never wanted to let him go. The moment I would let go of him, the terrible, self-loathing thoughts would return, and I would retreat back into sadness and terror. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted Jaime; I’ve never wanted someone more in my entire life. The only problem was that whenever I wanted someone, they disappeared.

I knew I was going to get in trouble for my decision to stay alive with him for now.

I just didn’t expect it to happen so quickly.

”You've been bad, Spencer," a voice hissed at me. I froze, becoming rigid. Not again, oh, please, not again. I did not want to dream this, but I didn’t want to wake up from this, either, because a seizure or some other kind of attack was surely inevitable.

I tried to scream, but a hand pressed against my mouth, muffling my objections. I found myself being ripped from wherever I was, walking against my will to a different room. No, no, no!

I desperately bit the hand that was grasping my face, trying to escape. But he just laughed crookedly.

"You're a silly, ignorant girl, Spencer," he chuckled. "You can't hurt me," he said.

"Yes, I can!" I ripped away easily from his grasp and turned and punched him in the face.

He laughed again. "That was a wrong move, dear," he taunted. He moved to face me, and his appearance paralyzed me. He flicked open a lighter, a small, shamefully beautiful flame, dancing before my eyes.

"Don't do that!" I intended to yell, but it came out as a whisper.

"I won't, but you will," he said.

The four people I loved were in this house. I wouldn't let it burn. Vic, Mike, Tony, and Jaime were all in the house somewhere, while I was trapped in the kitchen with my worst nightmare. God damn them for always having band sleepovers. "I would never," I spat.

"Look in the mirror, dear," he said, gripping my arm tightly and jerking me around to a mirror hanging on the wall.

There was blood trickling down the lower half of my face. I all of a sudden felt a lot of pressure in my nose. I touched it gently, wincing at the contact. "What the..." My voice trailed off as I noticed something on my hand. A bite mark.

I turned to face him again, but he wasn't there. Drew Sanders disappeared in a blurry motion of red and black, and the only person who stood before me was a dim image of me, reflected partly by the moon that shown through the glass sliding door.

This was a dream, obviously. I clenched my fists, trying to concentrate on waking up. But as I formed my fist, I felt something in my hand. I opened it, and sitting in the palm of my hand was a lighter. A lighter.

I collapsed to the ground, yanking at my own hair. This wasn't real, this couldn't be real.

"Oh, it's real, dear. You are real," Drew Sanders' voice hissed through my head, but his body was invisible. "I am not real. I am as real as your dead family," he screeched. I covered my ears with my hands in agony.

"Liar!" I yelled, not bothering to check my volume, not caring if I woke any body up. I stumbled to the kitchen drawers, fumbling around for the sharpest knife. I was just dreaming; this nightmare would end once the knife sliced my skin.

I dug it into my leg. It did not feel good, but I felt it. I felt it, I felt something, it felt real. I cut more, just to feel again.

This was no nightmare, this was real. I dropped the bloody knife to the ground and bolted out of the house. My legs were useless, though, so I curled up in the dewy grass.

He didn't exist. He never existed. He was just a projection of my own mind... God, all of this time I was fighting with my self… a battle in my own mind…

"Spencer! What are you doing?" I all of a sudden felt someone's arms wrap around me tightly, constraining my convulsing body. I was out of control.

"Jaime," I gasped. "Leave!" I yelled satanically.

"No! What the hell is going on! You're scaring me!" He yelled, squeezing me even tighter. I tried to relax, but it was almost impossible. I was a killer. I killed my own family. I killed my foster family. And I’m killing Jaime. Right now, I was scaring him. I was having another outburst, which was killing him inside. It was only a matter of time before I killed him on the outside, too.As much as I didn’t want to consciously… it would happen subconsciously… there was no stopping me now.

"Jaime, let-go-of-me," I growled between breaths. He noticed the severity in my voice, and he backed off.

"Spence, you're bleeding," he whined. "Let me help you. Will you please let me help you?" He begged. I sat still, and he applied pressure to my leg with his hand. I enjoyed the way my blood seeped through his fingers.

"Nobody can help me," I moaned.

"I don't understand," he said.

"I don't understand either," I mumbled.

"Give me your phone," I demanded.

He reached in his pocket warily, handing it to me slowly. I avoided his gaze; I ignored the way his eyes were lined with tears.

I pulled up the Internet on his phone, searching for "Drew Sanders". I had to know. I had to confirm this.

Nothing.

"What are you doing?" He asked, overwhelmed with confusion and worry and anguish.

I didn't answer. Instead, I searched for variations of his name. "Andrew Sanders", "Andy Sanders"; nothing came up. Absolutely fucking nothing.

He did not exist. This was not a dream. This was not a nightmare. This was real life.

Half of me wanted the flames, the other half of me longed for normality. I wouldn’t let the fire-loving part of me win. I couldn’t. No, the answer was clearer than ever now.


"Goodbye, Jaime," I yanked myself away from him, but he grasped my shoulders, shaking me as he spoke.

"What the fuck is going on? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Drew Sanders does not exist. Think about it, Jaime. Nobody has ever seen him before. Only I have. The police are at a dead end looking for him," I said. I stared into space as I spoke. I was a machine. I had no emotions.

"You're scaring me, Spence, just stop it," he whispered in a broken voice.

"He's just my imagination, Jaime. My conscious created him in order to relieve my mind of guilt. It's simple psychology, Jaime," I said. I sounded crazy. I was crazy. But it all made sense now. My mind drifted back to when I first burned myself with the lighter that I had no recollection of owning…

"No, it's not true," he said in a pleading tone.

"It is. And I'm dangerous. I can't control my self at night," I said lowly. I couldn’t control myself at any time. Who knows what I have done?

"This isn't you! Just-just stop it," he cried.

"I'm not who you think I am," I said. "I won't stop. I'll never stop. My veins burn with fire, my soul is Hell. That's where I belong, so that's where I will be going," I said, turning away. I sounded robotic. I sounded evil.

Jaime dropped to his knees. "Please don't go," he cried.

"I'm already gone," I hissed. My voice sounded like Drew Sanders... No, it sounded like me. "And I won't let you or them live in danger anymore."

Jaime grabbed my arm tightly. He wasn't going to let me go. "Let go, Jaime," I said emotionlessly.

He only held on harder. What was his problem? Why didn't he understand that I was a murderer? I was consciously excited around fire... It wouldn't take much for me to burn anyone I surround.

I craved it. Now that I knew... What I was... I knew that I subconsciously liked it. The way fire dances around, the sparks magical in my eyes, the smoke filtering through my lungs, washing out everything...


I had two choices. I could make Jaime let me go with words that I didn’t mean, or I could make Jaime let me go by hurting him physically. I could say that I wished he never came into my life, because, despite the fact that I was all alone, I was safe. Ever since he showed up, bad things happened. I could feel my eyes burn with these words, which tasted like venom on the tip of my tongue. I knew I could never say them to him. They weren’t true; I didn’t blame him for anything. I blamed myself. I could never let him think otherwise. So, I chose the latter.

I kissed him softly on the lips, and then I abruptly pulled my right fist back, and then it collided with his face.

I was surprised with how much force my punch had. I guess I had a lot of passion and emotions inside of me that exploded out with the motion, because he was out cold. It broke my heart, seeing him, lying there, helpless, in the dewy grass, the night could easily take him away…

But I couldn’t waste any more time. He would wake up any moment and try to stop me again. For what reason? I didn’t know. He knew I was a murderer, yet he still wanted me? Nonsense. I didn’t even want myself.

So with that, I made my way to my destiny, to the top of the three-story record shop I will never have to step foot in again. The place where all of this started… meeting Jaime… the place where all of this would end… life.

Sometimes you have do things you don’t necessarily want to do in order to save the ones you love.

Notes

Second to last chapter.
I'm going to go ahead and post the last chapter because (1) I love you guys, and (2) it is already written because it was the first chapter I even wrote for this story thanks to a sudden spurt of inspiration, and the entire story leads up to this next one.

How many of you guys expected this?

Note: a sequel is definite; I already have some ideas.