What Happened on Wednesday Night?

TRIGGER WARNING: Arson, injury detail, murder, suicide

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“She who blows on the fire will get sparks in her eyes.” – German Proverb.

Emily Chester ran her bare toe along the dirty line of grout between the two tiles she had been studying for the last half an hour. Head tipped forward, faint smell of sulphur in her nostrils, elbows on knees. The floor felt as hot as the air around her. The tiles were pale cream and both cracked at the corner forming a grim smile in the floor which taunted her while she considered closing her eyes. But doing that, even for a moment, brought a darkness that bit at her soul. She was not even willing to blink until the dryness of her corneas became too painful to ignore.

After a few minutes the crack-smile was starting to gape into a grin and its sarcastic laughter echoed inside her head. The air was harsh, her throat was raw, her muscles ached, every inch of her skin was sore. The chair she sat on was hard and unforgiving, like rock against her tortured legs. She was stiffening into her bent-over posture but too stubborn to relieve the discomfort by sitting up straight.

‘Please look at me Emily, I’m begging you. We need to talk about what happened on Wednesday night.’

Emily drew her chin still closer to her chest and sighed. The other girl’s voice sounded familiar, but somehow other worldly.

‘OK, I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but I know there’s one thing you can’t resist.’ The other girl folded her arms onto the table between them and shuffled in her chair. ‘I dare you to look at me.’

Emily stirred. Her head tugged up by the words as she lifted her gaze from the crack in the floor with some relief. The eyes staring back at her were water colour green, sunken into dark sockets setting the tone for the rest of that thunder-clouded face. Emily searched the girl’s features for a sign of comfort or understanding but none was found. She was young like herself, maybe 14 or 15 and had soft auburn hair neatly tied back in a low pony tail. But her jaw was set, her chin tilted upward, thin lips clamped shut until she spoke.

    ‘What happened on Wednesday night?’

‘I don’t remember.’ Emily glanced up at the ceiling and noticed its corners were starting to crumble. She could now see darkness beyond the edges of the windowless room, night sky perhaps, but it felt emptier than that.

‘Of course you remember. You were there. Now don’t play games with me. I already know what you did.’

‘There was a fire.’

‘Yes. There was a fire. What can you tell me about it?’

‘It started in the basement.’

‘That’s right.’

Emily sniffed. A smoky scent filled her nostrils. It’s funny how the memory of a smell can hang around after the event. Funny how that scent can transport you back through time. For a moment she saw the blazing basement in her mind’s eye, felt the heat of the flames on her face.

‘It started in the basement and spread up the stairs. It spread up the stairs.’ Emily went to scratch her thigh, but even the slightest touch against her flesh resulted in agony.

‘Yes, that’s right. What happened next?’

Emily dropped her eyes back to the crack-smile in the floor. Even a pair of broken tiles gave more comfort than this girl. Even an imaginary grin was better than the actual company on offer. The floor seemed a long way away now, she could no longer reach the grout with her toe.

‘What happened next?’

‘I ran away.’

‘Not immediately, you did not run away immediately, did you?’

‘Not at first. I stayed and looked. I watched the flames.’

‘What did you see?’

‘I could smell it, the wood and fabric and paper all burning. I could smell the smoke, the flames, see the sparks.’

‘How did that feel?’

Emily blinked. And then regretted it. The dark closed in around her, shoving itself up against her mind like a crowd on a rush hour tube train. There was no space in the dark, no escape. A simple blink of the eyes felt like an eternity of blackness. She tried to remember how she had got to this room, what she was doing here. But her only clue was the familiar looking girl staring back at her. Asking questions. Endless questions.

‘How did it feel? To watch the fire?’

‘It felt good, like an achievement.’

‘An achievement? What did you achieve?’

Emily rubbed her fingers around her irritated eyes without closing them. Hoping to generate some tears to stop the dryness. It didn’t work.

‘How did the fire start?’

‘It wasn’t my fault. They knew I had to take a dare. Any dare. They shouldn’t have said it.’

‘How did the fire start?’

‘I climbed in through the broken window. The house had been empty for months. Everyone knew it was empty. And I checked, and double checked. There was no one there.’

‘How did the fire start?’

‘I used Joe’s lighter, I promised I’d give it him back. Where is it? Where’s Joe?’

‘You used Joe’s lighter to do what?’

‘To set fire to the newspapers in the basement. I had to blow on them to get them to light properly. I thought I could put it out with a blanket I found. I thought it would all be over in minutes.’

‘But it wasn’t, was it? Did you learn nothing from last time?’

‘Last time was a terrible mistake. I checked and double checked the house on Wednesday night. But the fire spread up the stairs, into the hallway, into the house. So I ran.’

‘Do you know what happened next?’

The fire brigade had been called but the house burned to the ground anyway. She’d watched for hours from the park opposite until it was just a pile of rubble and soaking wet junk. Shame coursed through Emily’s body. She didn’t want to answer any more questions.

‘Do you know that someone died in that fire?’

A wave of cold sweat ran from the crown of Emily’s head, down her neck and tingled through her spine and legs. It didn’t stop until it reached her bare toes and then it was followed by a deep, overwhelming nausea.

‘There was no one in the house, I checked twice. I checked every room.’

‘Look at me.’

Emily tilted her head upwards between her hands towards the other girl, but not far enough that she didn’t have to strain her eyes to look up at her face. That face had changed. Emily blinked. When she was finally released from the crushing darkness she sat up in her chair, eyes wide, mouth open.

The green water colour eyes were still there but the lids were deeply scarred and the flesh around them was charred, blackened. Teeth on the bottom jaw were exposed where the lower lip was missing. The skin was gone from the cheeks and forehead and the raw flesh beneath was visible. That soft auburn hair was no longer tied back in a neat low pony tail. It was scorched, black, curled like melted plastic and patchy where clumps had been burned away from the scalp.

‘Who are you?’ asked Emily.

‘I dare you to look in the mirror.’ replied the girl, holding up a small black-handled looking glass.

Emily straightened herself in her chair, fidgeting to try to get comfortable but it was impossible. The other girl held up the mirror and Emily gazed into it. Looking back at her were a pair of green water colour eyes, surrounded by scarred lids, burns and missing flesh.

The girl holding the mirror was the same girl that was in the mirror.

‘Who are you?’

The room began to disintegrate, layers peeling and folding outwards, particles floating off into the darkness, into the distance. The walls crumbled, the floor fell away at the corners and then the decay spread inwards. The now familiar crack-smile tiles broke apart and flames licked up from underneath them. The smell of sulphur intensified and fire spread across the ceiling. Emily could not stand from her chair. Invisible restraints held her in place as the heat rose around her and the remains of the room were finally swept away into an infinite inferno stretching in every direction.

‘I’m Emily Chester, and I’m very angry with you. I’m going to spend eternity making you pay for your stupid dares.’