Life Before Damaged, Vol. 9: The Ferro Family by H. M. Ward

Author:H. M. Ward [Ward, H. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Laree Bailey Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

NOT THIS AGAIN!

November 17th, 1:13am

Smoke.

I’m trapped in my nightmare once more. I try to wake up, but I can’t. I have to wait for the dream to run its course. The toxic fumes surround me, dancing around like a ghost, an intense heat wafts off of the flames, caressing my bare arms and face. I wait for the image to come into focus, expecting the flames to morph into people that try to pull me down.

The images never come. Awareness slowly settles in, lifting the dream. I feel myself waking up, regaining control of my body once more, but the nightmare goes on. The smell of burning plastic and wood is more prominent as the seconds slowly pass. I try to breathe through my nose, but it burns. I open my mouth to take in a breath, but I can’t. There’s something over my mouth, keeping it shut. I move my arms to reach up, to take it off, but my hands won’t move. They are bound behind my back, making my shoulders burn with every tug. I open my eyes, but my right eyelid won’t cooperate. It’s heavy and feels thick. My left eye sees perfectly, though, causing me to panic.

I see tall beams of ancient wood reach high into the air. They’re sided with old boards, weathered with age. The floor is a mixture of dirt, sawdust, and animal droppings. There are bails of hay stacked opposite me. There’s an old green tractor parked next to the door, a fuel container tipped to its side next to it. The flames are stronger in that spot, as if the fuel was used to get the fire started, creating a wall of fire across the door. I can’t escape.

Philip. He and his friends did this. They were ordered to get rid of me. 'Corpse,' the blonde man had said. They want me dead and this time, there’s no saving me. I’m tied to a chair, my hands behind my back and my ankles bound together. I can’t breathe through my mouth because it’s been taped closed.

I can feel myself hyperventilating, the tape sucking into my mouth with every breath. I try to push it off with my tongue, but it doesn’t work. I thrash my head left and right with no success. I let out a muffled scream, hoping someone, anyone, will hear me. I jump, but my chair catches in the dirt and wobbles, almost toppling me over. If I fall over, there is no way I’ll be able to get back up.

There’s nothing left to do.

Five months ago, my biggest remorse was that I hadn’t claimed my life for my own, that I hadn’t done anything worthwhile. I cling to memories I'm proud of--swing dancing, making new friends, living on my own for a brief moment, skydiving, getting a tattoo, riding on the back of a motorcycle, and Peter.

Tears fill my eyes, thinking of him. He’s my only regret. I never got to tell him I love him.

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