June 21st

They told me to leave, to get away. To run. So I did. But now, every time I close my eyes the flames blaze and set everything else alight all over again. The place that kept me whole for my entire life engulfed in orange and red and yellow. It masked every crack that could've shattered me, and now it's gone. Just like that. It's sad, how everything can so suddenly disappear to the point of no return. Now it's like a ghost town, lingering in my memories without a clear picture. I can't help but think of everything falling apart and breaking. I can only see fire.

It's then that I realise, as the black smoke chokes the oxygen out of the air, I won't ever see them again. It's written across every inch of my skin, catching like wild fire. But the words aren't printed like on paper or inked carefully in curling letters. They're engraved like initials on a headstone in the blood that runs through my veins.

It's not like I didn't see this coming. The day where the fractures in my life became caverns I could never fill. But I need someone to know that I'm not just Thea, the girl broken by her mother and father's deaths.

Because before that, I was already gone.