ii. fire at the
cemetery | toni

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When I first met Ember Sage, I wanted to do two things: pull her hair and become her best friend. I managed to do both in our four years of friendship.

When we were thirteen I found the chance to finally pull her hair when I thought of a wild, fake accusation I could use against her. Of course, when I confronted her about this (I pulled her aside to an empty parking lot), she was very aghast, as anyone else would have been. I thought what a bitch she was for even suggesting we properly talk it out first, like she was so angelic, so kind, a gentle soul gracing Earth, and I was an untethered monster needing some petting -- and with that I had decided to use all my strength reaching her head, then, with my hand gripping a handful of her hair, pulling it towards me with force, her feet stumbling, misstepping, a slight cry breaking through her lips.

Not fighting back, and not even a sign of resistance, she wept and said stop.

And I did stop -- and I remember watching her cry as she fixed her lovely fucking hair with her trembling fingers. She was sniffling and despite myself I felt so bad, but I didn't want to apologize because then I would prove myself a point: that Ember literally had nothing about her that was hateable and that I was, indeed, an untethered monster.

I hated her even more because of that.

Why can't she be flawed like Reese and me?

I guess you can call me insecure because one of my deep-seated resentment towards Ember was because I was not rich like her, I have an unavailable father, I live in an old house with broken faucets and door knobs, and my life was in crumbles. Her presence only accentuated the stark contrast between our lives, and she was a reminder of how much I'm living on the side of life I hated with my heart. But even so, at times, I'm grateful that Ember kept sticking with me, even after everything I had said and done. I'm grateful she continued to hug me and smile at me and hold me like I'm not the piece of crap I think I am.

Now that she's dead, I wish I'd spent my time telling her that she's the most wonderful person I've ever met in my life.

I wish I told her that. Her corpse wouldn't hear me.

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The day before we found her dead, I was in a conversation with Ember over the phone.

"Do you think she's still mad?"

I thought that that question had an obvious answer: yes, Reese is obviously still mad. Reese's grandmother was dying in her hospital bed and Ember fueled the stress that's been boiling up in Reese. She's the one who lied about not having money even when she had some, and now Reese's grandmother is one step closer to her inevitable death because she failed to get the medications she needed. I don't know why she'd lied -- I guess it was just her having trouble with setting boundaries. Reese owes Ember so much money it was impossible to keep count, but why did she have to lie and not give Reese the money when she needed it the most?

That night, Reese had to steal from a perverted man in a pub. If she hadn't done that, her grandmother would have died.

I rolled my eyes and made a face, but Ember wouldn't see that through the phonecall, obviously. I just looked at my nails and scratched off their paint.

"As I said, just give her some space," I said and munched on a donut, my eyes affixed to the TV in front of me. "She'd come to you like nothing happened. As she always does."

"I hope you're right," said Ember. Ember worries a lot. "I hope I'd just given her money."

Maybe.

Maybe she really should've just given Reese some money.

"Ember!"

I was suddenly brought back to my senses when I heard Reese cry Ember's name.

We were at the cemetery that night after receiving a text message from Ember, and we had no idea that our best friend's corpse would welcome us instead. The night was cold and familiar as the towering trees murmured behind us, and the air hung heavy with an unsettling chill as we stood in front of our best friend's corpse. Her face was on the floor, there was a pool of blood on the middle part of her body, and there was blood on her skirt and dirt on her pale, slender fingers.

"W-We should call the police," I immediately said. I looked around the eerie cemetery to see if anyone had seen us, and relief washed over me as I saw that nobody seemed to be nearby. "Reese--"

"Who did this to her?"

Reese sounded really angry, which was a little out of place because she was just fighting with her the day before. I ran my fingers through my hair, struggling to gather my thoughts. I bit my lower lip, sighing. "Reese, I have . . . I have no idea but w-we have to tell the police." I breathed deeply. "Reese, they need to know about this."

Reese did not respond to me as she stayed kneeling in front of Ember's body, examining it; touching her face. Her neck. Her wrists. I saw a fatal wound on her stomach. There was so much blood in her clothes, in her skin. Ember seemed to have died from blood loss after being stabbed in the stomach and I couldn't bear to look at it any longer.

My heart was drumming hard, the weight of the midnight hour worsening the shock that consumed me. It's twelve in the fucking morning and our best friend was dead. I wanted to go home and forget all about it. I don't know.

"Reese--"

"No," she said. I couldn't see her face. "Don't call. Don't call the police."

My brows furrowed together. "What?"

I could hear the crickets and the rustling leaves from outside.

Reese held Ember's hand. "H-Her family . . . her family is rich. You know that."

"Reese, what are you . . ."

"Toni, my grandma is dying," Reese said and it shocked me because I heard her voice crack. She has never cried in front of me, but at that moment my head was haywire and I couldn't think straight. I could already see what she was trying to say. "If Ember disappeared . . . if she went missing . . . her family would look for her . . . and there might -- there would be a reward money, right?"

I looked at Ember's lifeless body and remembered her laugh and the way she said my name and all the times she said I was pretty, then got mad at Reese for what she was trying to say.

"Fuck you, Reese," I said under my breath. "Fuck yo--"

"Yes, fuck me!" Reese yelled suddenly and stood up to her feet. When she turned to look at me I saw her tear-stained face, her eyes blazed with intensity and unwavering glare. Upon that sight of my best friend's face I didn't know whether to get angrier, for Ember's sake who is dead, or to feel bad for the one alive and breathing in front of me. "Toni, I just want my grandmother to live longer. I need that money!"

I shook my head. Her suggestion was criminal and only immoral people would even dare do anything like that. "Not through her, Reese!" I put my palms on her shoulders and with the same force I used to pull Ember's hair, I pushed Reese away. I was appalled we were even having this discussion. "Not through Ember! Are you fucking insane? You're still gonna make use of her even after death? How fucking dare you!"

"Grandma is dying!" she said, her voice cracking again, with brokenness and with fury. Then, with a decisive eyes, she shook her head. "If you won't help me, I'd do it myself."

Reese then turned around, grabbed a rag, and headed outside. I swallowed and gripped my own hair, the frizzy strands enveloping my fingers. I shut my eyes tightly, attempting to calm down my racing thoughts.

I counted to ten and breathed deeply. "Fuck . . ." I said in a coarse whisper.

That night, I didn't know what pushed me, but I followed Reese outside, suddenly, with the rag in my hand. I don't know what I was doing. I don't know what I was getting myself into. But for the next fifteen minutes, we wiped all signs of blood on the grass, and from time to time I would look at the tearful yet blank face of Reese. The air was heavy and cold and frightening, and the scent of my best friend's blood hung in the air like she was still alive. Cuts marred my palms. Sweat dripped from my forehead and mingled with my own tears.

Ember is dead. Reese isn't. Ember is dead. Reese isn't. Ember is dead. Reese isn't. Ember is dead. Reese isn't.

And I had to help only one.

We only had to hide her body for a week; that's what I kept telling myself as I wiped all the drops of blood on the grass. I focused on the smeared blood on the grass, my scraped knuckles. If it would mean Reese's grandmother would live longer, I'm sure Ember Sage wouldn't really mind. Would she?

"Would you help me?" Reese asked in a low voice, but I didn't respond. I just turned around, went inside the storage room, and wrapped Ember's stab wound with a cloth. My best friend's blood was still fresh, a little warm to the touch, and tears rimmed my eyes at the sight of the stillness of her dead, still face. I felt so sorry. I felt incredibly sorry -- so fucking sorry -- and yet I would be helping my other friend use her even after death. Even after death.

After wrapping Ember, Reese then slid her best friend's corpse into a sack, as though she was just some dead pig to be butchered in the supermarket. She was panting and with a worried face she looked at me.

"Don't look at me like that," I told her coldly. "This is your fucking idea."

Reese looked at the sack. "Only for a week, Toni," she said, and hesitantly gave me a look. "Don't be mad."

"Get the fuck out."

Reese pulled the sack of Ember's body outside the storage room and I looked around inside. There were scissors and blood stains on the floor.

Every evidence of Ember's murder was in there, and putting the whole place on fire means diminishing every little thing that would lead to the person behind her death. I looked at Reese, my friend, and thought of her dying grandmother. The weight of moral dilemma pressed upon me, with conflicting emotions battling for dominance within my conscience.

"Fuck it," I remember saying, and lit the storage room on fire.

At 1 AM, Reese and I stood a few meters away from the burning storage room filled with enough shreds of evidence that could tell who might have murdered our best friend. We watched it burn as Ember's dead body lay on our feet. I don't know how to feel about it but I imagined Ember's ghost crying in front of us or something, probably asking us why, but at that point, I had gotten tired of feeling bad because honestly, who fucking cares. She's dead. We just need her body and she could go straight to heaven if she wants.

But I couldn't get it out of my head: her corpse. Her blood on the grass. The scissors that might have killed her.

I feel like if Ember Sage was watching us that night, she would never forgive us.

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a/n: i like burning places don't i 😍😍😍