Born to burn

7. SILVERTON. ________________________

PHOENIX POV

•

I wake up with the sun b.itch-s.lapping my face and a mouth that tastes like regret, tequila, and someone else’s bad decisions. My skull’s cracking in four places. At least. Feels like someone stuffed cotton in my brain and lit it on fire. My tongue’s dry. My ribs ache. My eyes burn. Yup. Alive. Unfortunately. I blink. Once. Twice. There’s a ceiling I don’t recognise. Cracks spiderwebbed across plaster, paint peeling in slow exhaustion. Not the motel. Not Seattle. Not the new house either. Where the f***k? That’s when I hear it. Spoons scraping cereal. Loudly. Like a war crime. I turn my head, and there he is. Some kid. Buzzcut. Hoodie sleeves rolled up to the elbow. Chewing cereal like it’s a protest. Like the bowl insulted him. He’s got a scowl that looks permanent and eyes too sharp for a kid… he can’t be older than me. He meets my stare. Unbothered.

„You snore.” He says flatly. Crunch. I blink. Sit up too fast. The world tilts sideways and punches me for the attempt.

„Who the h.ell are you?” I ask, squinting. He shrugs. Doesn’t stop chewing.

„Ash. You crashed on our couch.” Our? I blink again, looking around. I’m in a living room. Big windows. Half-covered in blackout curtains. A bookshelf full of things I can’t pronounce. A bat is leaning against the door like someone expects trouble before breakfast. And a chair by the window. She’s in it. Legs crossed. Arms folded. White braids gleaming like threads of sunlight spun through smoke. She’s staring at me. No… she’s studying me with her eyes like she’s already decided where my soul belongs and how much glitter to sprinkle on its coffin.

„That was a bold choice.” She says. Voice smooth and sharp, like velvet with claws.

„Getting blackout at a stranger’s house.” I squint at her. Who the f***k are these people?! And where the f***k am I?!

„Do I know you?” I ask already feeling the migraine coming.

„Not yet.” She leans forward, resting her chin on her fist.

„But you will.” Ash snorts, still eating.

„Don’t let her weird you out. She does that to everyone.” He says smoothly.

„S.hut up, fetus.” She snaps without heat.

„Kimi.” She says, eyes back on me.

„Your name’s Phoenix. You told Fez last night. Then tried to freestyle over Cardi B and tripped on the patio.” I groan.

„That sounds about right…”

„Fez let you crash here. You looked… destroyed.” I rub my face as the pieces of last night come to me again.

„Where is he?”

„Gone. Doing Fez's s.hit.” Ash offers nothing more, just another spoonful of crunch. I stand up slowly. My knees protest. My hoodie’s half off one shoulder. My boots are kicked near the door like they tried to escape without me. The house smells like smoke, spice, old books, and something else… faint, warm, metallic. Ash watches me like I’m an animal in a cage he hasn’t decided to pet or poke.

„You feeling less dead.” He c.ocks his head.

„Questionable.” I answer. He tosses me a bottle of water from the side table. I catch it one-handed. Barely. Kimi rises. Glides, really. Like her bones bend to music I can’t hear.

„So…” She says, circling me like she’s measuring my shadow.

„You really don’t know?” She mocks me with her smile, like I should know something I don’t.

„Know what?” I ask, tired of this cryptic b.ullshit. Her smile tilts. Mysterious. Almost pitying.

„Nothing…” That does it. I step back, hand up.

„Okay. Y’all f.ucking weird. I’m gonna go die in peace now.” Ash grins.

„Good luck with that.” He smirks at me.

„Tell Fez thanks or whatever.” Kimi opens the door before I can touch it. Her fingers brush mine. Cold. Electric. Like a static shock laced with meaning. I flinch and she just smirks.

„We’ll see you again, chaos gremlin.” I freeze at her nickname, but let it slide. I walk out as the door closes behind me, and I’m outside. Back in sunlight. In silence. In my skin. And still, something painfully hums behind my ribs as my boots drag across the sidewalk, sticky with old gum and wet leaves. Fez’s place fades behind me like a dream someone else told me. Too sharp in detail to be false and too strange to be real. The street’s empty. Sky is just starting to bleed light. A dog barks two blocks over. A crow watches me from a power line, head tilted like it knows something I don’t. My breath fogs. My legs ache. And somewhere deep behind my ribs, that burning hum is still there. Low. Electric. Not loud enough to name, but too real to ignore. Like something’s been peeled open. Like something saw me last night and didn’t look away. Yeah… I’m definitely beginning to slip into madness. But whatever. Nothing surprises me anymore. And I’m content with whatever comes next. So? I shove my hands into my pockets. Fingers brushing lint. Cherry Chapstick. The house should be only a few blocks away. Too close. Way too f.ucking close.

•

The lights are still off. The door creaks as I push it open. The house is silent, but silence doesn’t mean safety. It never has. I don’t even get three steps before…

„Where the f***k have you been?” His voice cuts like it’s been waiting to strike all night. My stepfather’s silhouette lunges out of the shadows, beer breath and last night’s rage still wet on his teeth. I don’t answer. I don’t flinch. That just makes it worse.

„You think you can just f.ucking leave.” His fist connects with my jaw before I even register the motion. Crack. White-hot. Everything goes sideways. I stumble back. Hit the wall. Slumped to the floor, vision stuttering and that so familiar copper taste in my mouth. Blood.

„You little s.lut.” He spits.

„Wandering around, looking for d.ick like some hungry w.hore.” I don’t scream. I don’t cry. I don’t give him the f.ucking satisfaction. I just stare. Blood slips down the side of my lip. He leans in closer, voice low now. Almost amused.

„Next time you walk out that door. I’ll make sure you don’t come back.” Then he’s gone. Back into the dark like a monster returning to its den. I lie still for a minute. Taste copper. Feel the pulse in my cheek swell with heat. Then I crawl to my feet, wipe my mouth, and climb the stairs without a sound. I don’t go to bed. I don’t feel like sleeping, so I go out the window. And besides… it’s five-thirty in the morning and school starts at 8:30 a.m. So there’s really no point in going to bed for two hours, right? The rooftop is quiet, cold, and kind of perfect. But I’m still a little high, and my face and head hurt from the punch again, so who knows. Right now, it’s kind of beautiful. I pull out my very old, thrifted black Beats, lie back on the shingles, hoodie pulled tight, and stare up at the morning sky like it might give me some answers. I listen to some very disturbing heavy music. It always calms me down. The wind ghosts over my cheek, brushing the forming bruise there like even it isn’t sure it should touch me. My breath curls in the air, soft clouds rising like smoke from a fire that hasn’t gone out yet. Forty-eight hours. One weekend. That’s all it took for my life to turn upside down. New town. New school. New bruises. New madness. Same silence. But something’s different now… and I don’t just mean the geography. Fez’s place wasn’t home. But it didn’t bite. It didn’t feel like the walls were watching me, waiting to snap shut. Kimi’s eyes were knives, sure, but not aimed at me. Ash? Pure chaos, but not sharp or uncomfortable. It was wild in a way that made my skin feel electric instead of raw. Relaxed. And Fez? The way he looked at me… like I wasn’t a problem to be solved or a broken thing to be pitied. Like I was something familiar. Someone he knew for a long time. And it felt good. Nice. Peaceful. I close my eyes as the hum behind my ribs gets louder. Not enough to hurt. But enough to itch. To curl through my bones and whisper without words. It started with the fire, didn’t it? That question still popped in my head and I knew how mad it sounds, but that’s how it felt, or maybe it started even before that? Maybe it was always there, waiting for me to notice… and now that I have, it won’t shut up. But what started? What was there, in me? What won’t s.hut up?! I sound so f.ucking crazy right now… f***k. It’s not a voice, exactly. It’s a pull. A thread stitched into my bones, tugging tighter with every breath. Like I’m being drawn somewhere. Or called. And it’s not from outside. It’s inside me. Buried deep. Older than my rage. Older than my name. Waiting for me to crack open just enough to let it pour out like smoke from a sealed room. God, I sound f.ucking insane. I should be worried about school right now… How I cover the bruises on my face, keep my head down, and not get jumped in some locker room full of strangers. How I “unhigh” myself from the rush. That, that should be my thoughts, but instead? I’m lying here, staring at the endless morning sky, wondering what the f***k is living under my skin. What’s pacing behind my ribs like it owns the lease on my soul. Wondering if I imagined that feeling when the flames rose in the kitchen. That moment before everything went quiet. That breath before everything changed. It wasn’t just adrenaline. It wasn’t fear. It was… f***k. It’s settled. I’m f.ucking insane. It took longer than I thought it would…no, but for real, it was like something cracked open inside me. Like a second spine uncoiling. Like someone else in me finally stood up. Like I wasn’t alone. Not in the house. Not in my own body. Not even in my f.ucking thoughts. And that should terrify me, but it doesn’t. It feels… right? Like maybe, whatever it is, it has been here longer than me. Like I was built around it. Like it waited while I broke, so it could rise when I did. Like it knows the shape of me better than I do. Of course, I’m broken. Completely delusional. Traumatized… It’s most probably a slow-moving psychotic break. Yeah… that sounds about right. Because whatever happened and whatever I’m feeling wasn’t and isn’t normal…But then again, normal never wanted me and I never begged for it. But why do I feel like it’s not just waking up? It’s watching… Measuring. Breathing with me. Marking the hours like it knows something I don’t. Patiently waiting for me to figure out who the f***k, I am… Or what the f***k should I do with my worthless f.ucking life. Maybe? This is so stupid…

„F.uuuck.” I groan, annoyed, as I open my eyes. Did I fall asleep here?! What time is it?! As I roll over, something burns me from inside, under my ribs, and it’s not stopping. For what’s worse… it’s only getting stronger. I have broken one or two ribs. Maybe even more. Great. It’s 7:19 a.m. Today is going to be the worst. Not only am I beat up like a dog, but they’ll try to make me small again. Teachers. Students. Him. I just have to suffer through it and if I make it out alive, I’ll make my life count. I promised myself this, like a thousand times before… but this time? This time it wasn’t just a promise. It was prophecy. This time it didn’t just sit in my throat. It sank into my spine. Like it belonged there. Like it always had. But this time? This time it sank deep. Deeper than I knew at that time. Deeper than I thought was possible. Deep enough to echo back. Deep enough that something… answered.