TW/authors notes: strong language, graphic depictions of violence and gore, religious themes.

“Cold water feels warm when you’re freezing.”

I remember hearing that, somewhere. Where was it? Perhaps just at the moment, it doesn’t matter.

I stare at her while her skin peels away, blood coming out from

everywhere.

Her mouth is opened,

opened **_w i d e_**.

It’s like she’s trying to rip her own face apart, why is she doing that?

Oh,

I think she might be screaming, but I can’t hear.

Why can’t I hear her?

Am I in shock?

Oh my god, I think I’m in shock.

Her chest is heaving, her clothes are getting darker, and wetter. She’s writhing in the dirt, her necklace fell into it. She’s like an earthworm on hot concrete, desperately crawling inch by inch away from the source of her suffering.

“Cold water feels warm when you’re freezing.”

Why do I keep thinking of that? Is that important? She’s not cold, she’s hot. She’s burning. Her hair is still sparking, glinting like metal in a forge, getting shorter and shorter with every movement, with every subtle shift in the air.

It’s still on fire.

She’s burning.

Cold water? Water?

Water,

water!

She needs water! We need water!

I look to my right, it’s still blazing. There’s too much wood, why did they build the fire so big?

Not helpful, keep looking. What’s in front of me?

Her.

She’s there, of course, unless I’m imagining this? Can this all be a bad dream?

Please? No.

It’s not a bad dream, because when I look up, Lindsey is here. And Nathan, and Logan, Megan, Jason, Jamal, Conroy, Michelle, Caty, Morgan, Nathan G, they’re all here. But they aren’t helping?

Why aren’t they helping?

They’re screaming too. I look down, my hands are burning, my jacket is on fire.

Well, that’s not good.

Left it is.

I stand up, I start walking. The stream is that way, I have to duck under the bush and around the fence, but I can make it. I trip and hit my chin, but I’m wet now.

I feel it now, the burning of my own hands. They blister, swelling with water as I lie face down in the coolness.

I hear the screaming too, faintly. That’s good. That’s good?

Oh no.

I don’t have a bucket, I need a bucket.

I roll in the water, I don’t know why.

I’m sleepy, I’m so sleepy.

Wait, no, I have to help her.

I’m up, I’m standing in the water, my clothes are heavy. The air is muggy and wet as it inflates my lungs, I cough, I vomit.

“Cold water feels warm when you’re freezing.”

Yes, my clothes are heavy, full of water! I can walk back. I trudge through the water, it’s only knee high, but it feels so thick.

Fuck, it’s dark. The fire on the other side of these bushes is making it darker.

Stupid night shadows.

The ground breaks and dips below me, tiny avalanches and rockslides as I kick my way back to her. I feel like I’m going to trip again, but I can keep up. Before I know it, I’m back in the circle.

They’re beating her, why are they doing that?

They’re trying to put her out. Finally.

I take off my jacket, I stumble over to her, I land hard on my knee.

Ouch.

I lay my jacket over her.

It’s sizzling. Her skin is sizzling. The smoke and steam hit my nostrils as I pat the wet down her body, it smells like

nothing I’ve ever smelled before. But I can’t vomit any more.

It’s too loud with everyone shouting and running, I can’t tell if she’s still screaming.

Please keep screaming.

She is screaming.

I don’t even think, I hold her like a newborn. She looks like a newborn now, bloody and bald and crying. My arm is burnt and bleeding, just like her, it’s warm and squishy under her neck.

Is this helping? Is someone getting help?

“Don’t let me die.” she begs me, her eyelids are flaking off and full of holes, there’s so much blood in her eyes, like the tears of the jesus hanging on the cross in the mess hall.

I want to say I won’t, but I don’t know if I can.

“I’ve got you, Maria.” I tell her, because I do. I can’t pick her up, she’s too slippery now, but I have her like this.

“Erin?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Maria.”

“Don’t let them lie about me.”

“I won’t.”

The medics are here, they’re taking her. I ask to come, they won’t let me go, somehow I wasn’t burned badly enough. They call me a hero, but I can’t answer. I have to stay here. Pastor Geoffrey puts his hand on my shoulder while I and the others watch her ride away in the flashing lights.

“Cold water feels warm when you’re freezing. Flames feel cool to faggots destined for hell. Go to your cabin.”