Fire's Depths

Trigger warning!! abuse **

* * *

“You are no daughter of mine.” She remembered the cold, calculating look her mother had given her before saying those words. She remembered crying, pleading in the dark room, begging to be let out. Banging on the door, screaming for someone, anyone to come save her; the worn carpet beneath her fingers felt icy cold against her warm hands. She remembered the dark closet she had grown used to over the years. It was an average closet; a beautiful, sleek mahogany wood with a silver shine and a knob that her mother loved too much. The cold breeze biting at her face, daring her to tremble, shivering in a small corner with the spiders and the bugs nibbling on her toes and fingers until she fell asleep. She remembered waking up every morning to leaving the house and running far, far away; but she always came back. It wasn’t like she wanted to. Her mother would plead, ask her with so much heartbreak thinly lining her voice that she would come racing back into her arms; and the cycle started again. 

“Go ask your mother, Daddy’s too busy right now.” His familiar voice was all she had heard and loved between those few years she stayed in that house. It was close to her, something she could hold close to her fragile heart as replacement for the emptiness she had received from her mother. She could never remember his face; he never bothered to look at her, too busy with work to care that she existed. No one was unlucky enough to care for her; after all, why would they? She was insignificant; a mere speck of dirt in a forest of grass. Her father was kind to her; she was grateful he had talked to her without a withering glare or insulted her scathingly. That was why he was special. She could tell he didn’t like mother; after all, he was constantly talking with other women. Mother didn’t know that, of course. It was Daddy’s secret, something only they knew. That made her feel different. It filled her with joy. 

* * *

Creak. It was the sound of dark oak wood against the shiny wood flooring of the small compounded room, in which Serenity Owens sat on a cushioned chair on a rug. The door opened slowly, and a small, thin black shoe slipped into the room, followed by a small figure around the size of a bookshelf. Serenity smiled uncertainly as the young man entered the room. She gently patted the cushion placed across from her. “Sit.” She offered. 

He reluctantly sat down. 

“Hello,” she smiled warmly, “my name is Dr. Owens; but feel free to call me Serenity, alright?”

“Mm.” He looked away, turning to face instead the small window in the corner of the room. His eyes looked faraway, as if reaching for a place he could see but never reach. Serenity did her best to study him. His face was shaped by unruly brown locks, and his eyes were golden, his skin the color of dark oak. His face and arms were freckled by small dots but his eyebrows were knitted, his frown subtle. A grimy brown overcoat hung onto his arms and clung to his stomach; his blue jeans were splattered with dirt. 

“What’s your name?”

He muttered something inaudible. She swallowed. Somehow, she could work with this. Serenity watched as he fiddled awkwardly with something in his hands; something shiny. Tilting her head, she realized it was a keychain. It was silver, reflecting the thin light off of the rim. A picture was nestled in the locket, but she couldn’t quite make out what it was. 

“Can you repeat that?” She asked. 

“ . . . Elijah.”

“Well . . . do you like that keychain?” Serenity prompted. Elijah flinched, as if he didn’t realize he had been holding it in front of her. Quickly snapping his hand back and shoving it into his coat pocket, he looked away. 

“ . . . It’s nothing.” He said. She fought back a sigh. 

“Please, it’ll help with talking to me more easily. Get-to-know each other time, okay?”

Elijah averted her eyes. 

“You don’t need to tell me what it is, then. Just show me the picture.” Serenity insisted. 

It was quiet again. She regarded him curiously. His hands were always moving, covering his right arm, she noted, touching the chair timidly, as if he couldn’t believe he was here. His eyes flitted around quickly, darting up to the ceiling to a painting right behind her; Elijah never seemed to make eye contact. Interesting. 

She made a silent count to ten. 

“It’s a picture of me and my mom.” He finally said; still, he never let her get a glimpse of the photo. “She . . . she passed away in . . . in-” His voice faltered. Elijah looked away, letting his brown curls fall in front of his eyes, unnerving Serenity’s distinct gaze. She looked down; she could feel the tension rising in the room. 

“It’s alright,” She consoled him gently. “Take your time.” Serenity watched as Elijah swallowed hesitantly, blinking rapidly. She could tell what was happening; still, she said nothing. 

“It’s . . . hard to talk about.” 

“That’s fine. Just get it out, I’m just here to listen. It’ll be like I’m not even here.”

He fidgeted with the locket again. 

She waited, surveying his expressions, analyzing his every movement in a calculating manner. He was nervous; that was definite. The way he looked around constantly, his eyes yearning for freedom; his hands, jittery and persistent in moving, switching positions and passing the necklace between his fingers. Still, there was something about him that Serenity couldn’t quite place her finger on. It made her . . . uneasy. Something about the way he behaved, anxiously moving around but at the same time . . . almost confidently; like he knew what he was here for. It was that feeling that made her want to know more. It made her want to know his life story, to figure out what made Elijah . . . Elijah. It made her hungry to know more. Serenity stared at him intently, internally begging and screaming for him to go on. 

“It happened 7 years ago.” She flinched, realizing that he was about to begin. Serenity was practically leaning on the edge of her seat, her eyes widening and her breath held steadily. His words . . . they captivated her in a likeness she had never known. She craved more; Serenity needed to know. And so she said nothing, staring silently at him while he carried the story on. 

* * *

“I was living in Boston, with my mother. It was always her and I, my father had left us when I was a little boy. Boston is different from here, Serenity. It was more . . . busy, I guess. Uhm . . . so my mother, she- . . she had just found a job as a waitress in a restaurant. She worked as a cook; ‘Playing with fire,’ she used to tell me a lot, ‘that’s my job.’” He laughed bitterly. “Well, that was ironic. Still, she was an amazing cook. I really mean it. Every time I tasted it, it was like tasting something for the first time, something you knew but never truly knew. I . . . I don’t know if you know that feeling. 

“Anyway, Boston was a great place to live. I was only four when we moved there, but it was like my childhood. I still remember the brilliant blue skies, and there were always clouds. Yeah . . . there were lots of clouds. Uh, I think there was a big building, it was near my mother’s restaurant. Stone, I guess some wood too, but it was really big. Like, Empire State Building big. I didn’t really mind it. It was there, but I never acknowledged it; I only thought it was like every other building in the area. I went to school in the center of town; I never had any friends. I was poor; I couldn’t even afford lunch. My mother gave me the leftovers from the restaurant and that’s how we had dinner together. It was . . . tranquil. Peaceful. Our home was an old house, shabby and abandoned; but we made do. She and I would clean the place every week. It was fun. That . . . all changed one day. My mother, she saved up enough money to rent us an apartment. It was that huge building, the stone one. We lived on the fifth floor. It was great. Amazing, in fact. But . . . there was . . .” Elijah swallowed. 

Serenity leaned forward, pressing him to go on. Her own curiosity had gotten the best of her, and hearing his story made her homesick for hers. They were so similar. She wanted, desired, so badly to tell him hers. She wanted to tell him about how life wasn’t great, but her father was always there for her. Serenity could relate to him. She could finally tell someone without feeling disgusted with herself, because she knew he would understand. She bit back the urge, her eagerness to hear the rest taking over. She blinked, realizing he had stopped. 

“ . . . And then?” She urged. 

He looked down. 

Serenity frowned. Why couldn’t he finish the story? “Please, tell me.” 

“-there was . . . a fire. It was a raging fire, casting flames across the walls and it kept rising higher and higher. I . . . don’t know where it started; it kept rising, though, and my mom, she-” He choked back a sob. “I lost her in the fire. I can’t remember what happened after that. They told me . . . they told me I was the only survivor. That’s it.” 

She sat back, her eyes now focused on him. Thinking thoughtfully, Serenity looked at him and smiled gratefully. “Thank you. That was . . . very brave.” She reassured him. His eyes crinkled. She looked down, taking a deep breath. “Would you . . . like to know why I chose this job?” 

Elijah tilted his head, knitting his brows. Finally, he said, “Sure.” 

Serenity swallowed. “There was . . . a fire, in my building too. It . . . killed my parents. I barely managed to escape.” His eyes widened. “My mom, she was . . . abusive. She would always yell at me for things I didn’t do, and . . . she would lock me in closets. It was dark. I was lonely, and afraid. I . . . don’t want other people to experience that too. My father was the only one who cared for me. That’s how I viewed him. He was very special to me. I think you can understand how I felt, right?

“That’s why . . . I want to be like my father to everyone who sees me. I want to comfort them, and help them forget their past. It will be easier that way, so they can start anew. I’ve never really told . . . well, anyone about this, really. Actually, I’m not sure how I . . .” Serenity trailed off, confused. Why had she opened up to this stranger? She’d never talked to anyone about her past. Why him? Why Elijah? Alas, she couldn’t think about this; Elijah had gone silent. 

She tried for a reassuring smile. “Well, do you think I can help you now?”

Instead of accepting, what her clients usually did, Elijah seemed to go through multiple emotions at once. His face contorted into a look of realization and resentment, consolidating into a scowl that made Serenity wince. Why did he look so angry? 

“You . . .” He looked at her with so much fury and anger she shook a little bit. 

“I . . . what?” Serenity looked towards the window, silently praying. 

“You started that fire . . . didn’t you?” His voice cracked. “I knew it the moment you told me your name . . . but I needed to confirm it. That night, when I was about to pass out . . . I saw a young girl, carrying a lighter in her hands. A newspaper came out, telling everyone . . . everyone . . . that you, Serenity Owens, were missing and believed to have died in the fire. But I knew, after that, that you were the one who did it. I never told anyone. They . . . wouldn’t believe me anyway. No one listens. No one ever listens. Only my mother did, and you . . . you took her away from me. . . . Why?”

It happened in a flash. She lunged for his throat, and soon Serenity had him struggling to breath between her fingers. A life in her hands; what was she to do? She couldn’t let him go; she would be arrested and her father would be disappointed in her. 

“ . . .It was for my father.” She growled, Elijah desperately gasping for air, grasping for his neck. “He-he didn’t like my mother. He was everything to me. I-I couldn’t-” Serenity began blinking back tears as Elijah hopelessly tried to escape. 

She would have gotten away. She could have escaped, and begin living a different life without anyone figuring it out; but she faltered, and in that moment he took his chance and shoved her away. Serenity fell to the floor with a crash. 

Elijah leapt to his feet and shut the door behind him. This time, Serenity didn’t stop him. She knew what would happen. So, silently, she collected all of her things with a grim expression on her face and fled the city.