Slivers of fire drilled mercilessly into her skin, and her muscles, finally stabbing through her bones. Ghastly black ashes dripped from her blistering body, contrasting drastically with her deathly pale skin-- or whatever was left of it. Shrill howls erupted shamelessly from her throat, instilling limitless guilt in the pit of my stomach and endless agony in the depths of my heart. Burn scars kissed the spots on her arm where fire had licked her, but slithered off after a tiny taste. I dared not look into her eyes again; in addition to the torture she was forced to endure, her eyes pleaded for help, but I sat frozen, ignoring the fire that pawed at my fingers, ignoring the girl who called for my help. Finally, death possessed her body, commanding her to be still as ashes replaced her body forever. I considered this a happy ending; she wouldn't have to suffer the claws of fire anymore.

My conscience jolted to life. Restraining my breaths, I warily tried to wipe the sweat off of my forehead, but instead it was smeared over my face. I moved slowly as if the slightest twitch would trigger another nightmare. Groggily hoisting myself up on my elbows, I glanced at the mirror. My ash-black hair was plastered to the sides of my skull, and my eyes were hollow but ablaze with fear. Tugging off my simple, white shirt, I examined the tiny, brown freckles that dotted my chest and shoulders, and the tiny muscles that shaped my biceps. Tossing the fabric to the floor, I studied my room. The scrawny lamp I had on my desk blinked as the rain pounded furiously on the roof, begging for help, just as my sister had. I realized it was still night. A small candle in the far corner of the room held a dying flame-- but still, it haunted me like the memory I could never shake. The top of the flames bounced unevenly like her golden curls, and the bottom, curved, like her rounded chin, was tinted blue, her absolute favorite color. Tense and ready for death, ready for the house to engulf me in flames again, I tried to break my fearful gaze on the withering flame, but I could not snap away my attention. Finally, the glow rose into a grey stream of smoke, and the wick wilted, a blackened flower that was charred at the petals. Groaning, I crumpled back into the mattress, letting the blankets cloak my stressed body.

She reminded me so much of my dead parents, who sacrificed my life as they just vanished without a trace. She was the perfect combination of my father’s mischief-matted blonde hair and my mother’s inviting grin of flawless lips lifted into bared teeth, so perfectly shiny that if scrutinized closely enough, you could notice the unnatural, animalistic sharpness on each canine. Foolishly, I believed that the house was at fault; it served as a constant reminder of the horror story that I myself unraveled. Escaping Florida, escaping this sunny, fiery state, was my only chance at a tranquil life. I ended up in Vermont. Tossing my belongings carelessly against the dust-matted floor, tinges of blonde and blue flickered on the edge of the tree-line surrounding the mountain outside of my window in the room of my new apartment. Blonde... and blue. My sister's blonde hair and blue jeans.

I didn't even use the door; I abruptly thrust open the rusty window, its frame slamming forcefully to a stop. Diving hastily onto the fading grass (luckily, my room was on the first floor), I couldn't help but notice the bleached yellow color reminded me of her hair also. I sprinted across the field, finally reaching the tree-line and stopped for a second to take a breath into my already stinging lungs. A trail of fire traced my sister's route into the mountain. Although I had been utterly convinced of my sister's appearance, my confidence began to diminish as doubts surfaced. In a sudden, erratic decision, I hauled myself up the mountain without another thought. If even the tiniest splinter of hope punctured my heart, I would follow it. Even if it led to my death, my suspicions must be confirmed or brutally destroyed.

As the peak of the mountain came into view, I was slapped by the sudden heat of the already blazing trees. Just like when fire had cornered my sister two years ago, the strength of the fire trapped me in small circle; towers of smoke and tongues of flames danced around me, mocking me. Unexpectedly, a branch spit heat at me as it bounced at my feet. She surged from the billowing flames, her untamed hair flooding wildly from her white-hot face, even her height matched mine as it did two years ago; she was four inches shorter. As the branch rolled closer to my toes, I could feel the tips of my canvas shoes starting to singe. Her thin arm jerked towards me, scorching my cheek. I yanked myself away, tumbling onto the frozen surface of the lake. The force of the impact grazed my skull; I felt my brain trickle out of my wound. Refusing to give up, I commanded my eyes to open, and soon they were seared by the intensity of the bordering trees-- all of which were ablaze with heat and light. The ice of the lake began to be replaced by water at a glacial pace, until it finally reached me, and I was plunged into the dark depths of icy water.

For a moment, my limbs were constricted and unresponsive due to the sudden chill that engulfed my body. A panic attack threatened to strike and my lungs were constricted as some water surged through my nose. Finally, I was able to streak myself through the icy water and emerge at the surface. I gulped the air, my lungs loosening as I coughed up the water. The cool air nipped at the gash in my skull, causing it to throb excruciatingly. Wooziness threatened to overtake me as exhaustion tapped at my muscles. Paddling to the edge of the lake, I gripped the damp ground tightly, as if it were the only thing keeping me from death, and in a way, it was. The moist dirt squished and sloshed through my fingers. My only choice was to wait out the fire, which, I saw, was dying fast anyway. I forced myself into consciousness, and whenever I felt the need to sleep I would submerge myself in the cold water. If the pain of my wound didn't jolt me awake, then the frostiness of the water did. Finally the fires sizzled into a thousand different castles of smoke. Plucking myself out of the water, I proceeded to scramble down the mountain, my life force drained as death threatened to take me on the mountain.

After stitching the gash in my skull, the doctor cleared me to go home, wherever that was, as he did not find any other injuries. But obviously, he did not look deep enough-- he clearly did not find the part of me that died on the mountain. Flying back to Florida, I re-entered my family's home. Scooping every picture, every piece of evidence of her, except for the scar she left on my face, I chucked each one into the nearby ocean, erasing every piece of her existence. Then, I drenched the entire house in gasoline, and, with a lighter held at the corner of the wilted wick of the candle from my room, the house exploded into a million flames, joining the memories of my sister in death a of bones and black ashes.