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The fire is gone, and darkness veils me.

I still remember the smoke seeping into my lungs, the flames licking my skin away. The world was on fire, my pain blinding. Did I beg for mercy? I did. But the only person who saw me burn just watched, emotionless. Not a flicker of doubt, not a glimpse of regret.

The fire is gone. I'm dead.

Yet it's not the death that scares me, it's what lurks in the depths of it. My life was built on a lie. People never understand, my mom used to say. They notice your flaws because that's how they justify their own. If you want to be happy, be quiet, my little angel. Don't fight the wars which are not yours. And I tried, I really tried. I smiled and pretended and lived the life of the person people expected me to be. I guess somewhere on that way, I've lost myself.

Dead.

I don't remember my last breath, but I remember my last thought--I hoped to finally find peace, quietness, or at least emptiness. Anything where I didn't have to be me.

Another lie. You can't run from yourself, even in a grave.

The fire is gone, so is the pain, but darkness takes their place. Whispering and rustling, like a moonless night in the woods. Like a hungry wolf I can't see in the murk. Only there's no wolf and no woods. Yet something is watching, listening, calling my name. I try to scream, but I have no voice. I try to tear the blackness apart, but I can't reach it. And when I run, I only drown deeper. My body is ashes, my mind a shadow, my fear a curse.

Help me.

It lasts a moment. It lasts forever.

Help me. I'm begging you!

Your choice, your lie, your death...

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