Flames

Something had always been off about me. My parents were the first to notice, and quickly try to dismiss it as nothing. I mean who would wanna admit their child was abnormal? Certainly not my parents. The first incident had happened when I was only 4. I was angry, toddler raged angry. Why couldn't I have my toy? Maybe I had been a brat all day, but I was a child. They should expect it! I had decided they were the meanest parents in the world! My rage kept building until finally it erupted against my will. Fire poured from my hands, like I was a volcanoe erupting after centuries. Sitting in the living room beside my mom, fire shot from my finger tips and blasted into the kitchen. Thankfully, I'm assuming from my child body, it was a smaller fire and it only devoured the kitchen island. I just remember being stunned, my mother was screaming bloody murder and started running towards the fire. She began filling bowls of water and pouring it all over the island in an sad attempt to stop the damage. It was too late. Too late. It had burned down to the floor. Burnt wood and rubble was all that was left. It had all happened so quickly, I blinked and the devastation was before me. My mother had extinguished the last of the flame and fell back towards the sink. She sunk all the way down to the floor and just sat there bawling her eyes out hysterically. My father hadn't even rushed into action, sitting in his chair, he looked sick and terrified. No one moved for a long time. It got deathly quiet as my mom quit crying. We sat in silence, all taking in what had happened. Then.. Almost like it never happened. My mother came over, wiping her tears and smiled at me. She picked me up, cooing at me and brought me to my bedroom to lay down. I don't remember anything past falling asleep. The next morning, began the same normal routine and we never spoke of it.

I learned after that to suppress any feeling I had pertaining to the fire. Even as a child, I knew something was wrong and I didnt wanna make mommy and daddy sad anymore. They didn't deserve it. So, I fought against my anger as best I could. There were slip ups occasionally, the remorse I felt from how my parents reacted, reminded me how disappointing I was. All they had wanted was a normal child. I had become something of a liability and a reminder that things were never going to be okay.

By the time I was 15, I had mastered the ability to suppress the fire completely. I no longer had any outburst, to my parents delight. I also never experience a childhood. Every moment I had, I focused on being normal and being...not myself. I didnt want this burden that had caused so much pain and grief. School was a horror in itself. I kept to myself mostly, and quickly got labeled as loner. Easy target. It made it worse when people called me names and tried to get a rise out of me. My parents worn down disappointed faces would always appear, reminding me of everything I put them through, and I would back down. I would take the abuse and name calling, with my head down. Loner. Yeah. It was better this way. No one would get hurt. Especially my parents.

My parents got a divorce when I was 17. How they had stayed together thoughout my episodes, I had no clue. My dad left, to his benefit not blaming me but rather insisting it was just time to move on. My mother begged and pleaded, but it was useless. He left anyways. I tried to calm her down whenever it had happened but this only plunged her into a hatred of me. She constantly reminded me, how I had set in motion the events to him leaving. She never let me forget it. It felt like the fire inside me was boiling everytime she would say it. Your fault. Your fault. Its always been your fault. I repressed it many times when it wanted to fling out at her. It was like my body knew how it hurt, her merciless words, and it wanted to save me from it. It begged me to let it out, to devour the harbinger of this pain. I shoved it deep down, reminding it who was in control. Me. I had trained my entire childhood and I wouldn't let it overtake me. So, everyday I'd let my mother remind me of how I was the worst human being alive. Where I went would follow chaos and ruin...and I believed her.

When I became over 19, I left. I never even kissed my mother goodbye. It had been a year of the hatred mixed with her drunken attacks at me. I spent many nights avoiding her. If only for her own protection. I'd find her fallen down on the kitchen floor, passed out after finishing the rest of the bottle. Id lift her up and put her in her bed to sleep it off. It was neverending, and I knew when I left her, she would only continue the habit till her last breathe. I left anyways, let her make her own fate. For I grew tired of fighting to not be myself. I knew what I had could be classified as a super power. There were few people in the world who had possessed the gifts. I had read about them for years. I wanted to be a super hero to help people and fix the world. I wanted to make everything better so my parents would love me. How it had took so long for this poor absurd kid to realize, that they never would. I was just a problem they never wanted, but dealt with in some sick attempt to clear their conscious. "Well. We tried, we did our due diligence" they'd say to themselves. Passing off the feeling of guilt they felt, by covering it in self pity. Oh why us?

Finally, I had decided this day I would use my power. The power i had kept hidden and hated. I would embrace it like a parent meeting their newborn child the first time. A child they actually loved and wanted. For it was mine, within me all along and I wanted it back. It had comforted me in my madness. I started to pull at it, feeling it awaken itself from the deep slumber I cast on it. For years. I felt it rise up, screaming to be let free. Yes. I was not entirely alone in this world anymore. I felt my hands become warm, begging me to cast them. I looked around me for a target. There was an old warehouse near me. I could sense no one was there, so I breathed in. Do it. Its okay. I reminded myself. You are not a burden. You have a power, for good or bad. Its YOUR power. I smiled and closed my eyes, lifting my hands above me, aiming. "Be free" I whispered to it, and it came alive.