Episode 2: A Bite, a Death, and New Friends: Part 7

Scott is having a very bad night, but Rupert is enjoying his book.

Scott coughed from the burning heat wrapping his body. His mind was cloaked in the haze of the venom, but the fog was that of Hell, and Scott was stumbling to the end of it. He could smell the burning of the pits, hear the cries of the damned, but the worst thing of all was that the fog was smoke from the gasoline. The gas odor swirled around him, making his stomach twist in knots. He hated the hint of gasoline; he couldn't stand to pump his gas half the time.

He reached down in this foggy haze, touching his legs and coming up with crispy black skin on his fingertips. "No, not again, no," he roared, jumping back from the sight. He tripped over nothing and fell backward, landing in the dark of the grass. He gasped for air, only pulling the heat of a fire and the hint of gasoline in.

He shut his eyes, not daring to open them, knowing the truth of this hellish vision. It wasn't a nightmare unless one deemed the past a nightmare. The heat wasn't anywhere to be found in the air, but there hadn't been any hint of coolness either. All that was crashing over Scott's body was a numbness to the world because Death was slowly taking him.

"I can't do this again," he told himself.

He opens his eyes to see the brightness of the flames beat back the night in a horrible battle of agony. His eyes followed the light to where his legs should have been, but all he could see was a roaring fire. He relived the one event in his life that changed everything for him.

He often wondered late at night, when the world was still, if he had never been set on fire that night, what would his life be like? He was a dull man with a lame life but dreamt of something more. When he was five, Scott and his cousin made a campfire on the night of his birthday. They were going to roast marshmallows, but unknown to any of them, Scott's jeans had soaked up half a can of gasoline.

They soon found out. He stepped close to the fire to get warm, and the next thing he knew, the fire had reached out, kissing his jeans. His jeans flashed in brutal heat, eating his legs black and melting to his skin.

When his mother and cousin got the fire out, they would remove his jeans to stop them from smoking. It was a mistake because most of the skin went with it, yet Scott didn't feel it. His body had gone numb from the pain, and he did nothing until they got to the hospital, where they put him in ice water.

He couldn't recall the pain of the fire, just the mark it left on his soul, but he couldn't recall the pain from the cold water. He would never forget it, never.

"Mommy," Scott said after he came too," I know why I am alive."

"Yeah?" His mother's big golden eyes asked, filled with tears.

"God saved me to do something great with my life," Scott said, smiling. It had been the driving force in his life. The one thing that allowed him to get up in the morning. He almost gave up on the dream of his greatness after his grandfather's death, planning to join him, but something pulled at his soul. After his first love cheated on him with his best friend, the fact that he was meant for the greatest made him keep going. He would show them one day.

Scott screamed at the roaring of the fire, not from the pain, not from the truth. He might have believed his life was meant for something great, but that belief was built on a falsehood. Scott lived in the greatest Hell he knew, one of life's quiet desperation.

The truth cut deeper than any flame.

He jumped awake in a dark room with a few candles burning to make the dark a lighter shade, but he didn't know the place. He looked around with the pain in his bones that he couldn't put words to. He coughed, gasped, and recalled the monster along with Gwen. Gwen had green fire coming from her hands. How? He couldn't understand how she could have fire coming from her fingers and then a monster; what was it?

"Ah, you are awake," a smooth voice said with a hint of a Yorkshire accent. Scott could always pick up the accent; he had an uncle who lived in Yorkshire. He blinked a couple of times, looking for the person speaking to him, but couldn't see anyone.

"Over here," the man said.

Scott looked at the stool in front of a makeup table, where a Hell Imp sat, reading a book. The four-foot-tall devil-looking man with three horns, bright yellow eyes, and ashy skin smiled at Scott. He removed his reading glasses, setting them on top of the book.

"I wasn't sure if you would wake up again," Rupert said.

Scott went to utter something, but the venom drove a nail deeper into one of his bones. He shouted from the sudden shooting of pain. He flew back onto the bed, crying from the hit. His toes and finger tips started to burn like someone had set tiny fires under them.

"The venom is taking hold some more," Rupert said calmly. "I'm sure Gwen had slowed it down, but I fear she didn't stop it."

"I'm dying."

"Yes, you are," Rupert said, nodding, "and if I cared about you, I would help, but I don't."

"Why?" Scott cried.

"I love Gwen more than life itself," Rupert pointed out, "in this case, your life, but the sentiment still stands. I'm not sure why a Ghoul attacked you two. Not sure I care. What I do care about is if Gwen does this, if she saves you, she will have to give up on her dream."

Rupert picked up his glasses, opening his book, "Your death is a price I'm willing to pay so she can be a doctor. I thank you for it, buddy."

Scott wailed in pain while the Hell Imp went back to reading. 

Reviews

[Mila]

Theres something addictive about your writing.

[CLCurrie]

Thank you, for thinking so...

[Mila]

I appreciate your reply; I'm happy to see that you responded. Apart from this, do you happen to use other handles like discord, instagram and email?
I’ll explain better once we're together there.