At least I’ve learned through this whole experience that you never know who’s the saint and who’s the sinner … some devils hide their horns, like Ren and Lucinda, and some angels hide their wings, like Damion.
I’ve become less naive … less trusting … and I think maybe I’ve even earned a small demon in MY shadows – FEAR. It’s now in my bones, something I can relate to.
They say before you start a war … You better know what you’re fighting for
Well, baby, you are all that I adore … If love is what you need, a soldier I will be
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from crying some more – these days it doesn’t take much – but the significance of this song, this moment is just too great.
Not only is it his voice that sings the song, but Damion is my angel and my devil; my heaven and my hell; my everything; and he’ll always fight for me … for us. I know he’ll be there whenever I need him to be – always. And I’ll never doubt him again in my life.
Also, I know now what I’m fighting for – happiness. Happiness for every broken boy in this group. Nobody is ever going to harm us ever again.
Date = 14 February
Place = San Francisco (different places)
POV – Melaena
Suddenly the looming darkness of the house we’ve just stopped at is not that dark anymore.
I know the things and lives we’ve lost here will always leave a hole. My hand rubs over my tummy. But the sadness will go away … we all have a bright future ahead … a wonderful happy one.
I will help every San Francisco boy to find happiness and a love that can heal them. A love like ours. But knowing my boys it’s not going to be an easy task.
A red fire truck from Station 34 is parked next to the house and the men are standing around as if they’re waiting for us.
“Can I have the keys to the car?” one fireman asks politely. Alejandro hands it over, knowing that he must be working with Axel.
“I’ll make sure to get it back to your place.” He walks away and I’m not sure how we’re going to get back to my place, but it seems that at least Kiara’s car will make it there.
I walk through the weathered door to find Jackson sitting on the broken staircase.
“Hey sis, are you alright?” I swallow some imaginary spit down and give him a faint smile while clinging to Alejandro’s hand in mine. Taking a quick glance to the right – where the room I was tied up in looms as a dark hole of cursed despair – I nod determinedly.
Even though more than one life was lost between these crumbling walls, I won’t let it get me down. Biting my bottom lip, I blow some air through my nose.
“Yes, I’m rather peachy.”
“Great.” He holds out a brown bag and I take it, vibrating with anticipation. I sigh out the fear from my lungs and stick my hand into the bag, pulling out a box of matches and another handwritten card.
I want you to burn all the bad memories with this house together we’ll all make it a better place.
I look at Jackson with confused eyes as he hands me a glass bottle filled with some kind of liquid fuel, a cloth stuck in the opening. The smell of petrol mixed with alcohol fills my nose and burns my throat.
“Just burn this fucking house down, sis.” I take the matches, my hands shaking so much I almost can’t light it up. Eventually, the cloth starts burning and Jackson throws it against the wall while shouting “AAAARRRRRRHHHHHGGGG!”
That sounds like fun.
I take the next bottle and walk to the cursed room, throwing it as hard as I can.
“EEEEHHHH!” That feels so good.
We light several more bottles, taking turns to relieve our pent-up anger. It’s strange how satisfying shattering glass can be while you watch the flames run up the bricks, eating into the wood.
It’s as if the disintegration of the bottles also breaks the enslavement the house has over us, freeing us. Standing there feels liberating as if all the anger, rage, and hate inside me are melting in those yellow-licking flames.
“You guys need to get back behind the truck,” a fireman orders when the fire spreads to the roof.
And here in the afternoon silence of a warm February day, I think about death. The burning house emits a long thick plume of smoke into the air.
They’re all dead. The whole frickin Brown family – Harry, Darren, and Lucinda – are all dead. And I’m glad. Ecstatic even.
Is it bad for me to feel that way?
The fact slowly settles in my brain and a quiet calmness spreads over me. No. They will never bother us again.
No more stupid mayday messages; no more looking over my shoulder; no more worrying. It’s over. And I’m glad I’m glad.
The hot air of the flames mixes with the cooler air of the sky, creating a blurry mirage-like heat-haze, like ghosts trying to escape from their prison. I hope all the ghosts who were trapped in that house find peace.
We watch the house getting engulfed by the fire. It doesn’t take very long – as if hell was set loose to devour it until only ashes are left.
Even the firefighters seem enthralled looking at the burning house.
Looking at my brother’s expression as he stands next to me, I know why Damion organized for him to be here, me and him … we lost a little part of ourselves in this house and we needed this to start healing.
I’m still unsure what exactly they did to him … or what his involvement was in the accident … and knowing my brother I may never find out … but I do hope he can find his own angel … someone to fight his monsters with him, someone that can fix his broken soul. Someone who will make him happy.
Of them all, Jackson’s angel will be the most difficult to find – if she even exists. The girl will have to be extremely bold, stubborn, strong, patient, complicated, and a little crazy to make Jackson whole – but I hope she’s somewhere out there. This crazy twin brother of mine deserves to be happy. They all do.
“So what’s going to happen to this place now?” I wonder.
“Well, we have a plan …” Alejandro smirks. “We’re going to change this place into a sanctuary … for orphaned and abused kids … mainly from the gang areas. It was all my brother’s idea.”
“Wow.” Nobody said a thing to me. Not even Damion.
“He wanted it to be a surprise … so please act surprised,” Alejandro rips.