+Bad Catholics+ Frank Iero

+29+

When I opened my eyes, all I could see was fire. Even looking at it made it feel like my skin was simply melting to the touch, but no matter how much I tried to cover myself it only bled straight through to my bones.

I couldn't remember how I had gotten there, back inside the house. The last thing I remembered was standing next to Frank in the front yard and watching the structure disintegrate, his hand tightly grasping mine. Somehow, I was back there again, only things seemed so different. My daily breakfast was resting there on the kitchen table- a small bowl of some fruity off-brand cereal sitting next to a crossword puzzle. The crude graffiti on the living room walls was now gone, and in its' place the same eggshell paint I remember, despite how unremarkable it is. My father's keys were there on the side table next to the entryway to the kitchen. The house was completely back to normal.

Every breath I took felt horribly sharp, more smoke than air pouring into my mouth. There was nothing I could do to stop it. All I could do was stumble forward and pray I could find some pocket of air, regardless of my mind screaming at me to turn around and find the front door. With every step forward was a heaving cough, nothing but grit lining my throat. I could hear a voice, and for some reason, all I wanted was to find it. It was one I recognized.

A terrible sadness came over me as I looked at the house, everything just as I remembered it.

Why did I set it all on fire? I wouldn't have done it if I knew. I didn't mean to.

There was the constant sound of cracking, the frail wood supporting the walls suffocating in the terrible heat. I was scared the ceiling was going to collapse on top of me, but there was someone else in there- I was sure of it. Someone I knew. I couldn't just leave them alone.

I continued on- barely. It seemed like I could only move inch by inch, partly because of how rapidly weakness persisted upon me, and partly because I could hardly see further than that in front of me. The closer I got to the voice, the louder the white noise from the fire became. It didn't quite sound like I would envision it to, being inside of a burning home. It harkened more like a wind turbine that was moments from rupturing. For all I knew, that could have just been ringing in my ears.

I heard the voice croak my name, closer now than before.

"I'm here," I choked out best I could.

I moved a few inches closer and I could make the voice out a little better.

"Mae, why?"

I could swear I recognized it. Especially when it said my name.

"I'm coming to get you, just hold on. Please, just for another second."

A beam in the ceiling settled, and I halted in shock before pressing forward. The air was only getting hotter as time passed. I wasn't sure how much further I could go before it became completely unbearable.

"Mae, why would you do this?"

The voice sounded sad, not fearful.

I finally made it through the living room, the couch and the television cabinet completely engulfed. Somehow there was still a perfectly maintained book sitting open on the floor, next to it a pair of reading glasses. None of it made any sense. I looked over to see the closet door on the opposite side of the wall was left completely open, and at first, I didn't notice the shadow perched partially behind it until I looked closer.

"Hello? I'm here to help you, we need to get out of here," I said, every painful word feeling like I was swallowing sand.

The body shifted for a moment and slowly came from behind the closet door and into the glow of the fire. The moment I saw his face, I could feel my knees begin to buckle. I knew then why the voice sounded so familiar. It wasn't possible.