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Exhausted and tired, I drag my feet over the science room threshold, cursing the bright light of the day.
I was relieved to wake up in my own bed this morning.
My room was cold but tidy, clear of any broken glass. Sheets of thick and milky plastic stretch over the gaping holes in my window. A few plasters over my hands and the plastic on the windows are the only reminders of yesterday.
The staff pleaded with me to stay home today, but I’m too afraid to be on my own.
The rest of last night is like an old, faded and then badly assembled video montage of darkness and occasional lucid moments.
I remember the cool hands and the soft voice of a kind doctor and the word ‘hospital’, which set off panic in me, which only a child subjected to so many hospitals would understand. I remember crying and kicking, the hushed voices of the staff and the doctor, followed by the cold sting of an injection in the arm, and peaceful darkness afterwards.
“Hi.”
The innocent scent of lily of the valley hits my nose as Mia’s light musical voice chirps next to me.
“Hi.” I try to be polite and friendly, giving her a half-smile.
“Are you alright?” Mia asks, examining my broody features for a few seconds.
“Yeah, fine. Don’t worry. Just didn’t sleep that great last night, that’s all.” Giving her a small smile I change the subject, “ready for the test today?”
“I think we should be okay”, with a wink, she nudges me with her elbow. She is a nice girl so I make an effort with a warmer and wider smile.
In perfect time with the bell, Mr Shaw strides in with the announcement of today’s test. Thirty odd voices groan in response to the inevitable and some plead with him for mercy, but that doesn’t stop the exam papers moving from the front, reaching the back like rising water on a sinking ship.
Paper in hand, Mia gives me another reassuring wink and sets to task.
“Please remember that you need to use a burner for question eight. You need to conduct a test and record your findings”, Mr Shaw calls into the gloomy silence.
Mia is on question eight before me and I can hear the hiss of the gas pushed through the tube as she switches on the burner.
Lifting my eyes from the paper, I half expect to see the usual small flicker of yellow and red flame but the red and orange are replaced by pure bright white with a grey metallic sheen at the base, silver and blue at the top. And with the colour change, the fire’s motion has changed - it moves like an intelligent organism with a purpose and not the child of chaos we all see it for.
As I watch stunned, the flame gears up, expanding, spilling onto the table in flowing cascades like when baking soda and vinegar was spilling from my volcano project in Year Four. The flame stretches on the table top in both directions, spilling on the floor in trickles of silver liquid fire.
As if fed by an invisible fuel, it flows, advancing around me in a fiery circle, cutting me off, and the next instant as the flame closes its ring, it shoots up high to the ceiling, trapping me inside its fiery walls, and I scream.
A single terrified shriek pierces the quiet, followed by the screams of a dozen more voices.
Erupted chaos of human panic fills the room: fallen chairs, table legs scraping on the floor, the thud of a fallen body, followed by a scream of pain and a splintering smash of the door, as it flies off its hinges under the weight of desperate bodies.
The high-pitched wail of the fire alarm deafens me. Sprinklers come to life above my head, soaking my hair and clothes. Now I’m both hot and wet, trapped within blistering hot white fire walls and Mia is trapped with me.
“Mia, we have to go! We need to find a way out”, I yell above the fire alarm, grabbing her arm and tugging hard.
Searing pain scorches my palm. I pull it back, crying out in shock and pain.
The skin on my hand bubbles up with angry red blisters and, as I watch in horror, they multiply, spreading higher up my arm, and then begin to burst with wet smacking sounds, leaving behind each blister a little pool of blood.
Under my gaze, little pools turn into dozens and dozens of small streams, guided on their course by gravity.
Horror-stricken and unable to move, I bawl with all my lungs can give as Mia slowly turns to face me.
But it’s no longer the Mia I know.
Steely features have washed away the familiar softness off her face. Decisive lines cross her forehead as her eyes narrow into the cold, calculating slits. All emotion is drained from them, leaving behind the purposefulness of the executor I once saw in my dream.
My scream dies in my throat, turning to a wheezy croak. I gape as my mind reels, petrified by the possibility of the existence of Mia the Executor and the reality of all the creepy craziness of my dreams.
The heat of the blaze becomes unbearable. It surrounds me tightly, pressing its advantage. Mia is now on her feet, watching unfazed as the fire rages around us and I collapse on my knees in front of her, gasping for breath and nursing my bleeding arm.
Mia looms above me as I raise my eye to her.
“Mia, please”, I croak in a choked whisper, but Mia just looks down at me, her head slightly bent to the side, watching like a cruel child who just pulled the wings off a fly and is now watching it crawl. She doesn’t cheer, she is not sad – she is a detached surgeon in a sterile environment. Or a cold killer.
The wall of fire accelerates higher curling under the ceiling like a giant wave, eager to swallow and crush me under its weight.
The blare of the fire alarm, the cold shower of water from sprinkles, the heat of the flames, and the smell of burning plastic and wood, all are mixed with a faint hint of lily of the valley and the agonising pain in my arm to create a gruesome medley to accompany my death.
I resign, closing my eyes.