If you can, if you want- listen to this song while you read;

Hold On By: Chord Overstreet

( I knew the song, so I paced the story to end with the music… I paused between the lyrics and read it between the music, slowly. It made my 12 yro sis tear up. 🥹🖤)

     .•.•.•.•.•.

Sirens scream in the distance, smoke fills the air as they pull her from the flames and lay her on a bright white cot.

The world dims, her chest doesn’t move. The sirens fade into background noise, the world zooms in and out of focus.

They lift the electric pads. They start the count down. They shock her once. They shock her twice. They pause, check her pulse.

Colors flash and spin, red and blue. Screams fill the air, the smell of death lurks in the apartment courtyard.

Bodies are pulled from the burning building. It crumbles as the last are pulled. A woman screams over her dead baby.

Walkies chirp and crackle, policemen shake their heads and sigh at the massacre in front of them.

They shock her again. They do it again. She doesn’t move. They shake their heads. The shocks are lowered.

The man crumbles to his knees. The paramedic stumbles over, a wild look in his eyes as he shakes his head, showing that she is no more.

Blackness closes in. His breath stops. His heart pounds. The tears start.

She lay still on the cot. All alone amidst the smoke. No one to hold her, Nor the tear in her heart.

The opera. My favorite thing to see. Ruby sits next to me, her eyes scanning the audience below us. “Looks like Matt stood you up,” I say, she looks at me her blond curls twisted into a bun. “I’ll go check outside,” she says, fear flashing across her eyes for a spilt second. “While your out there,” I call, “Look for Amara.” Ruby chuckles, “Brother. Did someone stand you up?” She says jokingly. Although when I had said Matt stood her up I wasn’t joking. She knew that right? I shake my head, “Not until five.” She rolls her eyes, “You and your schedules  will be the death of us.” “And look how much I care,” I say as I hear her heels clicking on the newly polished hard wood floor. I lean back in my chair. Amara wouldn’t stand me up. I didn’t doubt that for a second. Mainly because she’s basically me. What with her crazy times and how everything has to be. It drives me insane sometimes. And plus she’s basically my daughter. Basically. “I just love the operas. It’s something about the tragic endings that always seems to touch me.” I stiffen, it can’t be. My heart starts racing, my head starts spinning. I turn back in my seat, Mom. She gives me a crooked smile, “Miss me?” I turn back to face the stage. No, no, no! I can’t run, I’m stuck. I’m stuck. I’m stuck. “You know,” she whispers her hot breath on my neck, “Children like you aren’t suppose to have a terrible life. I’m making an exception.” I feel it now, the coldness of her voice creeping in. She’s going to kill me, or worse. “Maybe you should have been a nicer boy. Would have payed off in the end. Like how you are with that girl of yours. Adopted but family by heart-or wait no. It’s just a pathetic attempt to change,” she leaned closer, her black hair brushing against my shoulder, “Always and Forever is just a lame excuse to-“ She’s cut off by a small gasp. Ruby is behind her, “Mother?” Mom leaves my shoulder and I literally feel a weight lifting a huge one. “Ruby, don’t tell me your still clung to that boy. Mark was it. Your not worth it-someone should tell him before it’s too late.” Ruby is frozen behind me. I can here her breathing. “Oh and enjoy the show,” Mom whispers, “I made it special just for you, Malachai.” Mom get up and leaves. I wince at the sound of my full name. No one calls me that, no one expect Mom. The sound of her light footsteps sounds so relieving I can’t even begin to describe it. “I thought she was dead,” Ruby says, her voice so little. “So did I.” Music starts playing and we’re both frozen. The curtains are drawn. I hear a scream, Ruby is covering her mouth. I see it, it’s Amara and Matt. Their laying on the stage blood covering their clothes. We run to the stage the audience laughing they think it’s part of the show. Mom must have compelled them. “Matt!” Ruby screams, ropes are wrapped around their arms. “I can’t get it undone!” Ruby shrieks, her hands working at the knot. Matt groans, his shirt covered in the deep dull blood. Then I see it, a bright flame rising from the curtains. “Ruby, we have to go!” I yell, Amara cries out in fear. “We need to save them!” Ruby cries. I grab her arm and pull her away. At least one of us knows when to give up. “Let go of me Kai!” She screams, “Matt! Please,” she crying now, “Please, don’t go! I need you.” She’s never done that before. Said when she’s needed something. It’s always been her weakness. I let her go, she stumbles quickly falling to the ground next to Matt. And I let her stay. She doesn’t try to untie the knots she just lays next to him. Holding his hand. She’s going to stay isn’t she. And I’m going to let her. I walk out of the building the fire building higher and higher. The one thing that kills vampires, is killing my sister and I’m not doing anything. I’m outside now, I cross the street my suit covered in Amara’s blood. I cover it up, hoping that they don’t think I was the cause of it all. I sit on a bench and watch it burn. I watch as my sister leaves. It’s her time, it has to be. Or this would feel wrong. It feels like fate. Like either way this would happen. If I saved her from the fire then she’d get hit by a car. This is fate.

I feel my heart beat as yours goes out. Up in flames, our love burns bright To embers it becomes, lost as my soul now finds itself Without you Love means pain Fire burns, and so do your eyes into me From the window, sorrowful and broken as the window pane Burning you, burning me I try to reach you You are too far gone Mouth agape in shock and finality The last moments are agony and screams The fire rages Burning you, burning me No peace, no kindness Orange only knows rage Equal for everyone, a burden to touch Burning you, burning me My home is gone. Up in flames. Burned you, but not me.

Cora was asleep, they all were. But Cora was in the deepest sleep, nothing could wake her, not even a fire. She dreamt of the fire, the way the smoke curled inside her lungs. The screeching fire alarms sounded like finger nails on a chalkboard. The stinging pain of the fire seemed almost real, to bad it was. In fact it seemed to real to the point where she realized it was. She tried to escape her dream, but she couldn’t. She could escape the fire in her dream, but her body wouldn’t move. She was stuck, no way to escape the fire. No one could here her scream. No one knew were she was. She had no way to survive.

This is not a building on fire

This it’s my soul burning

The fire started from hateful thoughts after the tables started turning

At the top are the strongest flames

Because I realize it’s my mind that constantly puts my heart in pain

My desires get the best of me

No Fire extinguisher, or Fire Hydrant in sight

No one is here to rescue me

If I don’t get myself under control I can burn everybody next to me

The outside is so beautiful

But on the inside I’m struggling

All I ask for is Peace of mind.

We were lucky to get out alive. True, the house was a total loss, as was everything inside. Years, decades of memories were gone in an instant. My wife fell to her knees, sobbing. I was silent, still in shock. How had this happened? What do we do next?

The fire department had arrived, and took to action. Granted this was my home, my world that was burning away to embers, but I still watched in awe. I had always been amazed by firefighters, their skill and bravery. Breaking myself away from them, I turned to my wife.

“Shh, it’ll be okay. We are alive, we are safe, We lost “things,” only. We can move one. You still have me.”

“I know, I know, its just everything we collected over the years. So many Beanie Babies. So many Cabbage Patch kids. All the Funkos!” Yeah, we hoarded toys. Not to resell, we were just nerds. And we had no children, no human ones anyway. Just Fluffy the cat...shit. Where was the cat?

I looked over my shoulder, and was relieved to see Fluffy, he must have escaped again. We tried to keep him inside, but he always found a way out. “Look, Fluffy is safe as well,” I mentioned to my wife. I walked over to the cat, and he started away. No doubt spooked by the flames. No worries, he’d be back.

Then I noticed the matches. No, Fluffy is a cat. He couldn’t...

He did alway hate the Beanie Babies. That damn cat...

I see the smoke your blowing at me. You were the one in your professional role not me. I have no blame here, but yet you placed it on me. You were the one who broke your ethics....not I. I came to you broken needed help in the darkest point in my life. You did not respect me or value me as a person. There you are with what you created. Your house is burning down around you. Your consequences not mine. It would have been so easy for you to admit you were wrong and come clean. Of course that would take someone with bravery and courage to admit you were wrong. It would take even more guts to ask for forgiveness from the person you hurt. It is so much easy to look at yourself and hide. Place the blame on someone else. But you see you created your own fire by not facing the sparks that you created. You made a spark and put logs on the fire. Your consequences are yours. Fire rages because you could not face the reality that you broke the ethics of your profession. All I wanted was to take some of the pressure off of you when I was the one hurt and emotionally bleeding. How could someone inflict more pain on a person who was already struggling with survival. I can not wrap my head around how someone could be so cruel. I guess as they say those that are hurting hurt people. You caused so much damage. Made me think you actually cared. I was already going through so much...but guess what I am still here. God has always had me in the palm of his hand and what you meant for evil God will turn into victory. I do not feel ill for you, but more empathy. What caused so much trauma for you that you would cause more trauma for another. I pray for healing for you in spirit, soul, and body. I pray you regain the passion and flame that gave you drive to go into your profession. You have so much potential to do good in this world. I hope and pray you embrace your God given gifts and use them for the betterment of people rather than selfish desires. God rewards the humble and those who chose to do good in-spite of being treated badly. You will reap what you sowed. Cause as you know karma always comes back in the end. The icky feeling your trying to escape will not seize until you face the fire you started.

"We would hear things, late at night. Always at the same time, around three in the morning." I could never sleep at night in that house. My wife said living in this historic house would open my eyes to the amazing history that this town lived. She was a junkie for that kind of stuff. Little did she know that that house would slowly drive me insane. The house would drag me down with it.

"What would you hear exactly Mr. Chavez?" I thought about it. Was it real or was it all a dream? Was I truly crazy? Maybe my doctor was right. I pictured my medications on the bathroom counter. In that house. They told me not to take them. They told me to follow them, they would medicate me with the truth about this wretched world we live in. The death and the rot.

"It began with whispers. Very soft, very faint. I couldn't exactly make out what they were saying. As the days went on that we stayed in that house, the things got louder and louder. Jasmine said she couldn't hear them. She's the one who sent me to the doctor, you see. Something inside me told me, though, that she could hear it. She just didn't want to face the truth about that house. She was too caught up in her historic fantasy to see what I did." My forehead began to sweat as images of the last night in that house ran through my head. The heat, the smoke, my lungs slowly collapsing as they had a grip on my neck. I couldn't breathe. They had Jasmine. They took her away.

"Now, what exactly happened that night Mr. Chavez? The night that killed your wife. The night that you say what, 'lives in infamy,' Mr. Chavez?" He stared at me like he was staring into my mind to get the exact pictures so he could put the puzzle together.

"They did it, not me." That was all I said. He didn't look to happy about that answer. He looked at me with pity and remorse, like I could never get better. That's when the voices started to come back. Staring low, then got loud.

"You know, Brandon, they're telling me something right now actually. If you still care to hear. My sanity isn't very clear, and I know that. Brandon, I think you're in danger here. In this place." He looked at me now with more curiosity than I had ever seen him with this whole session. He looked kind of nervous, worried maybe? He wanted to know. He started to sweat.

"They want you too Brandon." I say, very sternly. I look behind his head and see beautiful curtains hanging on beautifully placed windows. Then I see it, the spark. The light. The fire. The flames.

You left me here. Alone. In the cold. I have always loved this house, but now memories drip from the walls and the cracks in the floorboards form visions of you.

I see the red, orange, gold leaves fall and feel my tears do the same. Waxy tears, like a candle. They stick to my face. The trees look naked, and so does the house because its soul is gone. You were gone. I’m so cold.

You shouldn’t have come back. You opened up old wounds. Opened up old secrets. You shouldn’t have come back, but I’m glad you did because I saw how I could fix things. How I could make us happy again.

I was cold, and so were you. But I’ve fixed our problem. We’ll never be cold again. We’ll never be apart again. This house will come down with us. The red, orange, gold flames come closer.

I warned you: if you leave a candle unattended, it will burn your house down.

This was the best I could do. I don’t know anything but this this is my best, the best I could do.

Saturday or was it Sunday. The days pass by unceremoniously. I rotted in the covers of a twin mattress. It’s been so long since I had seen the light of day, all the curtains were closed shut and then there was a knock on the door. Immediately something didn’t sit right. No one ever visited me and for the right reason, I knew no one. So I let the visitor whoever they were tire themselves before they disappeared again forever from my life, they obviously were confused soon they would find who they were really looking for and probably laugh off their tiny mistake with whoever they were meeting.

The knocking got persistently louder, after, give or take, five minutes they showed no sign of giving up. I should’ve known then, the time that had passed allotted for reasonable assumption that they were knocking on the right door and probably more terrifyingly that they knew I was home. However whoever it was did not take into account my stubbornness and social ineptness there was no way in hell I would be getting up anytime soon especially not to talk to some stranger.

After half an hour, fear started settling in me, the knocking was occurring more sparsely but it was still there.

I could see the faint shadow of a pair of feet standing immobile outside the door, waiting...

Days had gone by, the knocking was there. The clicking of a metal ring and faint sound of nails hit the door not on purpose but because of the way the person threw their hand against the door.

“What do you want?!?”

It was my first attempt at communication I hadn’t moved an inch since it began. Silence followed for a few minutes and I relished in the silence before it became worse. Why did everything always get worse? First my brother then my parents- Then the knocking got louder! IT GOT FUCKING LOUDER!!!

The feeling of my throat ripping a scream didn’t bother me nearly as much as the pounding in my ears, “SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!”

“You shut the fuck up!” There was knocking from the ceiling and from the walls to my side.

There was so much knocking, so much noise. Was someone screaming? Who was scream-

“Oh!” I laughed, it was just me.

I grabbed a box of matches on my way to open the door.

I laughed this is my best, the knocking isn’t there. The knocking is gone! It’s finally fucking gone! My chest rumbled and shook with giggling. The raggedy unwashed blanket slipping from my malnourished shoulders.