Prologue
It's funny how your life can change in a second. One moment, you could be laughing with your best friend at a slumber party you threw for your eighth birthday, the next moment, everything could go up in flames. Literally. Now, almost eight years later, I still can't believe what happened that night, though I'm reminded everyday of what I became. A monster.
Sheila Hamilton was my best friend every since we met in Pre-K. We were practically inseparable. It seemed weird to people, that two girls could be so close, almost like sisters, but from a different race. It didn't matter what we were doing, we were always together. My eighth birthday was approaching fast, and I was begging my mom for a slumber party.
"Mommy, please?" I pleaded, hoping to get my birthday wish.
"Cecilia Thompson. I've told you three times already. We can't afford it." My mom didn't even turn to look at me. She was too busy washing the dishes. Her slender arms were covered to the elbows with soap, and her hair was tied back with a bandanna.
"But mommy, it's just one person!" My mom was probably one of the most beautiful person I had ever known. Standing 5' 2, she was a slim woman with chestnut hair that fell past her shoulders in waves, and a straight nose that seemed to want to tilt at the end. She had a full wide-set mouth and high cheekbones that accented her eyes. Her eyes intrigued me the most. Instead of being the normal deep chestnut brown that was common with someone with an Indian heritage, she had big, almond shaped emerald green eyes that glowed with love and joy. People told me I looked like my mom, but I didn't think so. When it came to looks, I looked nothing like my mom. At the age of eight, I had chestnut brown eyes and dirty blond hair. My nose was sort of like my moms but it tilted a bit more at the end. I looked more like my dad than my mom at that age. Sighing, my mom turned to look at me. She wore an old, faded apron over jeans that were faded white at the stress points and a T-shirt that said "I love Lucy.", stained with paint splatters from our recent paint fights. Her eyes pleaded with me to drop the subject, but I wouldn't.
"Cecilia, I know you want this, but...we..." she groaned when I tugged on her shirt sleeve. "Alright, alright! One friend. Only one." she held up her finger. I jumped with delight and threw my arms around her neck.
"Oh thank you, thank you! I love you mommy!" she held me tight against her as I hugged her. "I get to chose right?" I asked, looking into her deep emerald eyes.
"Yes. Now who do you want to invite?...No don't answer that. Let me guess. Sheila?" she smiled.
"How did you know?" I stared at her in amazement. She laughed, not your usual laugh, but a genuine laugh that came from the heart.
"Moms' secret." she tapped her head and smiled when I gave her a confused look. "Never mind." she set me back on me feet. "Well, if your going to have a slumber party, you better call Mrs. Hamilton and ask if Sheila can spend the night tomorrow." She turned back to the dishes, sinking her hands into the foamy water. She pulled out a plate that had spirals intricately decorated in the middle to resemble a flower. The rim was bedded with silver. I gave a whoop as I ran to the living room. The phone was sitting on the small table beside our beat up couch. We had had that couch ever since we moved into our raggedy two bedroom apartment. After my dad left, my mom took on two jobs to support us. I barely remembered my dad, except for the fact that he was a horrible drunk. I giggled with delight as I plopped down on the couch, which squeaked when I sat down on it. I reached for the phone, dialing the number automatically. It rung four times before Mrs. Hamilton picked up.
"Hello?"
"Hey Mrs. Hamilton, it's Cecilia. You know my birthday is tomorrow, and I'm having a slumber party. I was wondering if Sheila could come?" It all rushed out that I'm not sure she even understood what I said.
"Well, of course she can, Cecilia. When does it start?" Mrs. Hamilton asked. No doubt she was smiling.
"Hold on and I'll ask mommy." I replied then sat the phone down beside its holder. I ran into the kitchen, nearly running into the door frame, and ran up behind my mom. I tugged on the back of her shirt.
"Mommy, Mrs. Hamilton wants to know when the party starts?" My mom turned around and smiled. There was circles under her eyes, but I didn't notice them. Working twenty hours a day was starting to take it's toll. I tugged on her sleeve again when she didn't answer. Her smile faded and she yawned. She reached behind her and grabbed the drying towel. Rubbing her hands on them, she looked down at me.
"How bout four o'clock pm? That sound good?" I beamed a smile and nodded. She smiled back and set the towel down. I ran back into the living room and threw myself on the couch. It squeaked when I landed. I put the phone to my ear and breathed, "Is four o'clock okay?"
"That's perfect. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye-bye now." We hung up at the same time, and jumped up and down on the couch. My mom came to stand in the doorway. "Now, Cecilia. What did I tell you about..." she cut off and grabbed her head. I looked at her confused. Getting up, I rushed to her, wrapping my arms around her waist and looking up at her face.
"You okay Mama?" she didn't look to good, and that made me worry. "Mommy?" I pleaded as she stumbled to the living room, collapsing on the couch. She looked at me, her voice hoarse when she asked, "Cecilia, will you do mommy a favor?"
I nodded. "Yes, ma'am." She struggled to sit up, but then relaxed back against the arm of the couch.
"Run and get mommy a pillow please. I need to lie down a minute." she smiled, but faintly. She looked like she as in pain, but I couldn't tell. I ran to her room, grabbing the biggest pillow I found. I ran back to the living room to find my mom sleeping. The bags under her eyes stood out against her pale complexion. Sweat bedded against her forehead. I quietly walked over, tucking the pillow behind her head as best as I could. I laid my hand on her head then pulled it back. It was burning hot. She opened her eyes and looked at me, pain showing clearly now.
"Would you mind calling Mrs. Hamilton?" she asked, her voice even drier than before. It sounded like nuts being grounded up in a machine. I nodded and turned to the phone. I quickly dialed the number, waiting impatiently as it rang two times.
"Mrs. Hamilton? It's Cecilia. I think somethings wrong with mommy." I looked back at my mom, who was now asleep, perspiration beading along her upper lip now. Her face was shockingly pale and her eyelashes made a starch contrast against her flushed cheeks.
"Okay, sweetie. Is your mom awake? Where is she?" I looked again at my mom.
"No ma'am. She's asleep. I'm scared. I don't know what to do. I wish you were here." My voice broke as I started to cry, frightened by what was happening.
"Okay, Cecilia?" Mrs. Hamilton asked, trying to calm me down. My breathing had already accelerated, and I had already sunk to the floor, my hand clutching the phone. I tried to shake it off, before I responded.
"Ma'am?"
"Are you okay?" her voice was full of concern.
"Yes ma'am, I'm just scared." I leaned back against the couch.
"It's going to be okay. I'll be over there in a minute. You just hold on okay?" I swallowed.
"Yes ma'am." I hung up, my head falling back against the couch. I drifted asleep, not even aware that Mrs. Hamilton walked in not an hour later, carrying a sleeping Sheila in her arms. I breathed deeply my eyes fluttering open. Mrs. Hamilton was standing over my mom, her hand resting on her forehead. I mumbled something, making her look over at me. She smiled and told me to go back to sleep. I muttered something and my eyes fluttered closed.
* * * * * * * * *
I woke up the next morning with a Crick in my neck. My mom was already up, and I could smell the sweet scent of pancakes coming from the kitchen. I yawned and let my nose lead me to the smell. The circles under my moms eyes were still there, but they looked deeper, more pronounced somehow, when she turned to look at me. She managed a faint smiled.
"Happy Birthday Cecilia!" she walked over to me and wrapped her arms around me and squeezed me. I squeezed her back, smiling against her shirt. She must have taken a shower while I was asleep, because she smelled like soap and lavender, and her hair was swept up into a neat bun on the top of her head. She wore her favorite T-shirt, the one that I gave her for her birthday last year. She had on flannel jeans again, but they were completely faded, nearly white now. I released her, but she kept her arms around me, like she was scared something bad was going to happen. Unsure what to do, I wrapped my arms back around her. I didn't try to release her until I heard the silent sobs. I tilted my head up to gaze at her.
"Mama, what's wrong?" I let my chin rest against her chest. She release me and wiped at her eyes.
"Nothing, darlin'. I'm just happy, is all." she patted my head and turned back to the stove. "You might want to go ahead and get a shower and get dressed. Sheila and her mom should be back in a few minutes." I nodded and trudged to the bathroom.
Awhile later I walked into the kitchen wearing my favorite pair of jeans and T-shirt. My blond hair was pulled back into a snug ponytail, complete with a ribbon to match my shirt. I heard voices in the kitchen and the T.V. going in the living room. I stopped by the door frame, hearing my mom coughing. I heard Mrs. Hamilton and my mom talking and my heart skidded to a stop before racing.
"Are you sure your okay, Anne?" There was a tone of concern in her voice as she asked my mom. I heard my mom coughing again.
"I'm fine. It's just..." My mom broke into coughing again, and I heard the sound of glass crashing to the floor.
"Anne! Your not fine. Come on, I'm taking you to the hospital." I heard the sound of shuffling and my mom groaning.
"No! No. I'm...I've already been." I heard Mrs. Hamilton gasp.
"What?! Why? Are you okay? Anne, what's going on?" I heard a chair scraping on the floor and a sigh as someone sat down.
"I went when Cecilia was at school. I had some tests done. It took a few days, but yesterday, they called me to the office. Trisha, they think I may have cancer. They're not entirely too sure, but from the looks of it, I do." I heard my mom start to sob, and Mrs. Hamilton's gasp of surprise. "What am I going to do? I can't leave Cecilia. I'm damn sure not giving her to her dad. He wants her, but he is not getting her. I've already put that in my will." My mom snorted as she began to recite a particular pat of her will. "Under any circumstances, Cecilia Anne Thompson is not to go to her biological father, James Taylor Thompson, for fear of his drunken mind..." she let the sentence trail off as she broke off into sobs again. "Oh, Trisha, what am I going..." I didn't stay any longer. I couldn't bare to hear my mom talking about dying anymore. I sighed and headed to the living room. Sheila was sitting on couch, staring blankly at the screen. I walked over an sat beside her. She didn't seemed to notice I was sitting there until I cleared my throat. She jumped and looked at me. A smiled spreading across her face.
"Happy Birthday!" she beamed at me. We hugged each other tightly. My stomach growled and we both laughed. "I guess we need to go eat. This is boring me anyways." she gestured to the T.V., where a soap opera was playing. I shrugged and we got up and walked into the kitchen. My mom and Mrs. Hamilton was sitting at the table, staring blankly at their cups of coffee. When we walked in, they brightened immediately, sitting up straighter. Mrs. Hamilton looked at me and smiled.
"Happy Birthday sweety." she looked at my mom. "I hope you feel better. I'm going to run some errands and then I'm going to go home." she looked at Sheila. "I'll be here to pick you up after lunch tomorrow, okay?" Sheila ran to her mom and squeezed her. "Love you mom."
After Mrs. Hamilton left, me and Sheila went to my room until supper. Some time later, my mom called for us to come eat. Supper flew by fast. Sheila and I took turns to take baths, and brush our teeth before going to my room. My mom had already gone to bed after I had squeezed her so tight, she looked down at me and frowned. "Is something wrong?" she asked, puzzled.
"Nope. I just love you." I smiled, which made my mom smile.
"I love you too, sweety. Good night." she released me and walked into her room. I sighed, thinking about what I had overheard, and trudged to my own. Sheila was already sitting on the bed. I walked over and plopped down beside her, cross-legged.
"So, now what?" I asked, intrigued. Sheila shrugged.
"How bout we tell jokes?" she smiled. I smiled.
"Yeah, that would be great. I need to laugh. I feel..." I gasped as I lost my breath. I grabbed my chest as I felt a sharp pain stab in my head. I let go of my chest and grabbed my head. Sheila stared at me horrified, not sure what to do. I looked at her but my sight was starting to go hazy. I felt like I was on fire. I heard Sheila scream, but I couldn't come out of my trance. The heat engulfed me. I took my hands off my head, because that's where the most heat was coming from. I let out a scream as soon as I saw my hands.
"Sheila! What's happening?!" There was no answer. I looked around. The walls were covered in blue flames, the same color as the flames on my hands. I thought the flames were suppose to be hot, but the flames were so cold, the were burning. I looked around, my gaze seeming to see every speck in the room. Everything seemed brighter, clearer. Sheila was nowhere to be found. I heard screams, and sirens. The screams died, but the sirens got louder. My heart-rate accelerated, the flames on my hands spreading up my arms and my body till I was completely engulfed in flames. My body screamed at the burning , then stopped. The flames on the walls were reddish-orange, but the flames that engulfed me were blue. Ice-blue. I screamed. I gasped and grabbed my head as another wave of pain shot through me. I whimpered, too frightened to move. The flames me around curled higher, but the blue flames died. I stayed curled up, shaking. That's how they found me, 30 minutes later. They said I shouldn't have lived, but I didn't care. I wish I had died. It was all my fault. Because of me, my best friend and my mom was dead. Dead. I shivered as they lifted me up in the stroller and carried me to the ambulance. All I could remember was saying over and over "Blue fire." I blacked out as we drove away from my old home, which stood, flames roaring as firefighters fought to put them out. A silent tear rolled down my cheek.
