CHAPTER EIGHT

In the morning, the cut on my forehead is practically non-existent, and I am reminded of my extremely fast healing abilities. The doctors say that it's a side effect of my disease, along with my inability to get sick and hallucinations, but I don't, nor have I ever, entirely believed them.

I rip off the band aids, wincing as they pull at the hairs on my arm, and discard them in the bin. You can still see the cuts where the shards of glass pierced my skin, but they've been reduced to thin pink marks, barely noticeable.

I get ready quickly, and leave the house.

-:-:-:-:-

For the first time in months, my heat attack comes during class.

I'm sitting next to Caden up the back in History when I feel the wind on my skin even though all the windows are closed. I instantly know what's happening, and I suck in breath, as if it will somehow stop what's coming.

Caden notices that something's up straight away. "Melissa?

In the few seconds before it arrives, I recall how he's never seen me having a heat attack before and I wonder whether he'll still look at me in the same way after.

And then it comes.

It surges inwards, pushing at my skin. I feel it everywhere; my arms, my legs, my chest. It's a fire that can't be escaped or controlled; it can't be seen, and can't be felt except by me. It scrapes and claws at my skin with sharp burning fingers. I open my mouth to take a breath and it gushes in. It's a burning in my mouth, my throat; soon it's in my lungs and I can't breathe. There's no air, no nothing. My throat squeezes and I shut my mouth; the burning doesn't just come from the heat that's being forced into my body, it comes from me – a deep aching fire that spreads, and grows.

Strangely, in the midst of all this chaos, I manage a thought that seems totally out of place: I'm drowning. But in truth, I am drowning. People's faces – both concerned and disgusted – surround me. They are distorted, as if I'm beneath the water and looking up at them on the shore where they are breathing and living – where they are safe. And here I am, trapped under an unbreakable surface of fire; it crawls into me, consuming my body whole. I can't breathe, can't move. I'm drowning; drowning in an ever flowing river of heat.

Somewhere, someone is saying my name, grabbing at my shoulder before pulling back because of the heat in the air around my body and the fiery cold of my skin. I'm a cold fire – two opposites contained within one body. But I can't feel the cold even though I wish I could. I wish I could shake off my disease and feel the iciness of the air, but it won't go – it's stuck to me, woven into the fabric of my being, and no matter how much I thrash and lash out, it won't come undone.

Finally, I fall apart, unable to keep the pain bottled up, and I scream. The pain is everything now, there is no one else; nothing else. I'm dying, I think, and even though I know I'm not, in that instant, it sure as hell feels like it. And I wish for it too – for the pain to end, to be encased in a cold darkness and carried away from it all. I want to leave the fire behind – to leave it trapped in a body that's no longer mine.

And then, for a split second, it happens. I've left my body and I'm floating above watching the scene unfold -

Caden's by my side, speaking words of comfort; the teacher's shouting: "Get back! Get back!" and shoving the students massing around my chair away; some people are in the far corner, afraid – cowering; and then there's a few fuming students shouting insults at Caden as he helps me. Like he did with Branden, he stands up for me, for himself now too, and all the while softly gripping my hand, baring the searing pain that I'm sure he feels.

And suddenly, I'm back in my body. The fire is there again stronger than ever and I scream. But, starting in my fingers and toes, the heat soon begins to dissipate, and the fire is slowly extinguished. It's not long before the heat leaves all together and I can breathe and see. Objects, faces – they all come into view and I can make out details: the cracks in the ceiling; the blonde strands of hair framing my teachers face; the bottomless brown of Caden's eyes.

I hold a hand to my head as a wave of dizziness overcomes me and I can't help but notice Caden's hand which is red and covered in blisters from touching my skin.

"You alright?" he asks, a frown creasing his forehead.

I inhale deeply, and then put on a smile. "I could ask you the same question." I look pointedly at his hand and he shoves it behind his back.

"It doesn't hurt."

Sure, I think, and have to refrain from rolling my eyes.

Everyone in the room slowly makes their way back to their desks and the teacher continues on with her lesson, her voice trembling slightly. She doesn't look at me – no one does – and I feel guilty when I see my classmates shivering in the colder air.

It's my fault, and yet, there's nothing I can do about it. This painful fact is the very reason why I hate myself as much as everyone else hates me.

When I head onto the lawn for lunch, Caden's already under the tree. I join him in silence, scared almost to death by what he thinks of me now that he's seen my heat attack. He doesn't seem bothered, however, and he eats his lunch quietly, looking up only once from what must be last minute homework to acknowledge my presence.

I've only taken a few bites out of my sandwich when he speaks. "Your arms," he says, and I look up to find him wide-eyed and staring at the pink marks on my skin. His gaze lifts to my forehead before meeting my eyes. "You've healed."

"Took you long enough," I say, smiling slightly. "I thought you would've noticed by now."

He just frowns. "How-"

"I've always been a fast healer," I interject, shrugging. "I go to bed with injuries and I wake up without them. It's just how my body works."

"Do you know why?"

I shake my head. "The doctors said that it's a side effect of my disease, but they don't know anything else, especially not why it happens. It's practically unheard of."

Caden swallows and his face pales. A moment later, he starts packing up his books and bundling them in his arms.

"Where are you going?" I ask, frowning and confused, as he gets to his feet. I do the same, feeling the need to be at eye-level.

"I, uh, need to go talk to my math teacher about some...homework stuff."

His excuse is poorly fabricated, and it hurts me to think that maybe he does feel uncomfortable around me after the heat attack in class.

Before I can ask him where it is he's really going and why, he's off, walking hurriedly for the main school building. My heart drops as I watch him go, and a voice in my head says, You knew it was never going to last.

All the same, when I slide back down to the ground, I can't help feeling as though my last chance at making a friend has slipped through my fingers like sand.

-:-:-:-:-

That night, I toss and turn in bed, sleep coming and going. When I do manage to drift off, I'm haunted by dreams of Sarah with her cold hands and images of Caden walking away from me, his head focused on the ground.

And then the nightmare comes.

I'm in a pitch black room, sitting on a cold cement floor. I don't know how I got here or where I am, all I know is that I'm terrified – trembling and shaking and crying. The darkness is all-consuming and I crawl into the corner of the room, rolling up into a ball.

Suddenly, a rectangle of light with the silhouette of a man appears on the other side of the room as a door opens. The light floods into the space around me and the man's shadow extends across the floor, like hands reaching for me.

The man takes a step forward, followed by another, and I start crying harder and screaming indiscernible words.

"Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you." His sweet voice, like honey, floats across the room, lulling me into a state of complacency.

As he closes the gap between us, I sit silently trembling in the corner – afraid, but no longer terrified. He crouches down in front of me, and even though I can't see his face, I can feel him smiling.

"I promise this won't hurt a bit," he says. And then he leans forward, placing something cold and hard on my chest, and my world explodes in excruciating pain.