Tink stiffened as she saw the knife coming towards her and thrust her arms forward to stop the motion while slinging her head back hoping to hit his face with her skull.  The force of motion only resulted in a thump on John's chest and a burst of air being shot from his lungs, but it was something. She tightly gripped her hands around his - both sets giving opposing force as the knife quivered inches from her chest.

She struggled to worm herself away from him without losing a grip on his hands. His legs wrapped around hers made it impossible to create space between them for leverage. Even as he held her he continued to speak, his words coming out unclear and garbled. Uttered groans and bits of words that coming across her ear in a steady stream until one word came out crystal clear. Sophia. 

Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion and to someone else. Her eyes saw the flames, her ears heard the raging crackles of things heating and splintering and the smoke was so thick it made her disoriented. But nothing in that moment seemed real except the knife.

John was weak. She had stabbed him. She had stabbed him. It made her happy. Even now as her hands were tiring and the sweat running off them made her grip weak, she didn't panic. This time she had fought back.

Losing her grip on the knife was inevitable and when it happened, feeling the blade slice her skin and thrust below her chest was shocking, and painful. Taking a breath felt like fire in her chest and so she panted. Small gulping breaths that didn't make everything else move. John held her tighter wrapping his now free arms around her and rested his cheek on the side of her hair in an almost hug like motion. She couldn't tense or release, there wasn't a single way to move.  Every tiny bit of motion made the knife shoot pain across her body. She stayed motionless in his grip until he released her. His arms and legs unwinding as he forced her body sideways causing her to slump down onto the floor.

Immediately when she landed, Tink reached for the knife wrapping her hands around the handle to be ready when he pounced again. After a minute of nothing and despite the pain she lifted her head. She wouldn't be caught off guard this time. John was facing away from her slithering on the ground, wounded, snake like, but not toward her, toward the flames. She left the knife in place and grit her teeth before inching herself back a little to get a better look at where John was.

Claw like, his curled up hands grasped the floor as he struggled to propel himself forward.  His face was unrecognizable. No longer smug or even remotely controlled his pale dry lips were peeled back in a snarl as he drug himself forward. The fire continued to spread and soon he was alight. Tink forced herself to watch waiting for him to scream or roll but instead he reached his arms forward deeper into the flames toward the chair that held Sophie.

The skin on his arms and hands blackened and his face seemed almost to vibrate in motion as the fire peeled and melted its surface. Tink watched in horror holding back a scream of her own. The building smoke made it impossible to see but she knew it was over. John was gone. She was free.

Cradling the knife she sat up slowly backing up until she felt the stability of a wall not yet engulfed. She was safely out of sight wedged between a large hutch and the corner when she finally relaxed enough to tilt her head back and take a full gulp of the smoke filled air. Tears rushed from her eyes and she didn't know or care if it was from smoke or pain or the realization that she had stopped John from taking another breath.

The roar of the fire was deafening. Pieces of the curtains floated across her vision like magical butterflies powered by fire. Like her. She was free. At this moment no one could tell her what to think or feel or believe. Her body suffered as the taste of ash and blood filled her mouth but like those butterflies, she also soared. She turned her heard toward where she remembered the hallway. It was possible. She could pull out the blade and drag herself into the street or yard and someone would find her. A stranger.

Another chance at home. A place she no longer remembered or belonged. With people who had learned to live without her. Even if they missed her, mourned her, remembered her, she wasn't that girl anymore. Jade had died so long ago. Even if she tried she could never bring her back. She remembered Stash, the underground rooms, the loneliness of the hospital and all the places she'd been since that day she left home. None of them were where she belonged. None of them made her feel safe.

Her lungs burned as she watched the flames jump and dance. They were beautiful, mesmerizing. Jade, Tink, Hope. So many her's. So many mixed up memories she couldn't even remember which one she'd started out as.

She smiled as she grabbed the blade and pulled it from her chest. A stream of bright blood pooled across her hands and ran down her arms. Lighter. She was lighter without it. The blood flowed out around her without the plug of the blade holding it in and her lungs got heavier. The weight of them, the fullness made it impossible to breathe and she felt herself sway and slump back onto the floor. This moment was all hers. For her. About her. This was freedom.

"You're free, Tink. Go. Find your way. You too, Hope. You never belonged to me. Go. I'm here. I remember this me. I am Jade. This time it's just me. I'm going home."

She said the words to no one. She couldn't even hear them herself above the roar but she knew they had to be said. Sirens in the distance wailed. And it scared her. No more help. No more loops of the life she couldn't shake. This time, her body would find its way. Her family would get back a girl they remembered. Jade.

She no longer felt the heat in the room. The pressure of her chest was all consuming. She closed her eyes as a part of the ceiling fell and a giant whoosh of fire puffed in the air. Her lungs sizzled and her throat closed. The room began to dull and spin as she felt her pain in her chest like her heart was trying to sputter and kick itself into going on. Her thoughts swirled in color and everything seemed lighter. Why had taken her so long? Freedom felt good.

#######################
We did it! Yes. I mean we. I never could have made it through without you guys and I can't thank you enough. This was, to date, the hardest book I've written. Way out of my comfort zone and a story I didn't think I could tell. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for every silent read, every tapped heart and each beautiful comment.

Finishing isn't bitter sweet. It's joyous. I couldn't be happier to lay her to rest (which was the only outcome either Tink or I, could live with). For those of you who wanted a HEA...I'm sorry. If you've ever been through trauma you know it haunts you forever and as much as Tink endured she wouldn't have it end any other way. I gave her exactly the ending she asked me to.

Thanks again. And I'm gonna stop rambling now. Because there really couldn't ever be enough words to say how grateful I am.