Charity was on fire. Her legs, her lungs- everything burned as she tore through the woods, making no effort to dodge the branches that clawed at her face. She could see their shadows in front of her, stark against the light of the torches they bore. She stumbled over roots and fallen branches, but she couldn’t slow down. She wouldn’t allow them to catch her.

It was a humid summer, the kind you can feel tugging on your skin the second you walk out the door. That day, the clouds had been threatening rain, and I was driving to the middle school. Normally, my sister liked the walk home, but I knew she hated getting her hair wet just after straightening it, and I had the night off work anyway. Plus, I could leave early and escape the house to listen to music in the parking lot. My volume was too high, blaring through the cracked windows as I set off. 

It was a pretty quiet morning, to be honest. It’s always so quiet in our neighborhood. Or, it was, before all this. I guess it’ll be quiet again, now that this is all over. Sorry, anyway, it was a normal morning, the first time we met him. Dani and I– sorry, Danielle, my roommate– we were on the couch, eating breakfast and watching the news. Dani saw him first. 

The morning was muggy, the dusty air carrying the scent of hydrangeas and sizzling asphalt. I pressed my face against the filthy windowsill next to my bed, taking in a few breaths of the morning breeze before falling back into the stagnant air of the bedroom. My sister was still asleep, curled up on the pillow next to mine. Across the room, the bed my mother shared with my baby brother was empty.