Into the Fire (Flame in the Shadows Trilogy #1)

15. Mel

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

MEL

“You’ve got to eat something.”

Sam and I are sitting on my bedroom floor, plates of lukewarm food balanced in our laps. He tried to bring me to the mess hall, but on the way, the sobs I’d been holding back in Cait’s presence resurfaced with a vengeance. I was hardly able to put one foot in front of the other, my parents’ broken bodies all I could see.

So Sam brought me here. I collapsed on the floor and wept, unaware he left to get us dinner. Tommy’s words kept running on repeat through my mind.

The Organization interrogated our parents.

I know what interrogated means. Mom and Dad weren’t just murdered; they were tortured for information. Unspeakable things happened before the end.

My heart splintered more with each new horror I imagined, the pictures in my head worse and worse. I barely noticed when Sam returned and sat next to me while I cried, patting my shoulder and handing me tissues every so often.

My tears have finally run dry, but I’m empty. A void.

“Mel?”

“Sorry.”

Wow. I sound awful.

I clear my throat, rubbing my swollen eyes with my knuckles.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Sam’s tone is gentle, like he’s trying to calm a spooked animal. I blink, lost in horror-stricken numbness.

“Mel?”

With effort, I focus on him.

“What happened in there? Why are you crying?”

A weird little laugh bubbles up my throat. Crying is the understatement of the year for what he just saw. He’s known me about three seconds, and he’s seen me cry so hard snot ran down my face. But his warm eyes don’t judge. They’re full of kindness, like he actually cares.

My friends back home ‘cared’ for a while. Eventually, they got mad, or bored. There came a point when they didn’t want to witness my tears or listen to me grieve anymore. To be fair, I didn’t want to let them see, either.

Tommy cares, but only because he’s an orphan too. He’s as damaged as I am.

As far as I’m aware, Sam isn’t. He doesn’t know me at all, yet he sat with me while I sobbed. He watched me at my worst, and he’s still here.

Suddenly, I want nothing more than to share what I learned with him, to connect with another person, a person who isn’t tangled up in what happened that night.

So I tell him about opening the door to find state troopers on Aunt Amy’s porch back in Coral City. I bring him through the dark years I struggled there, stuck with an aunt who, though well-meaning, didn’t really know what to do with me. I tell him how I lost friends until no one was left. I explain my prior suspicion that my parents didn’t die because of a gas leak, and how it pushed everyone away—how the anger and the sadness swallowed me up until I graduated and could legally tap into my inheritance to come to New Hampshire and hunt down answers.

Then I tell Sam about meeting Tommy in the woods, about snooping in the records room at Levett Tech, and about Tommy’s cryptic nighttime warning in my condo. After all that, I run through what Tommy said in the CCTV room. The truth he revealed.

I tell Sam how empty I feel. Empty and sick and like I’m trapped in a nightmare. Like this isn’t even real. I was sure my parents’ accident was a lie, but the truth is a thousand times worse than I feared.

As my story comes to an end, I find myself facing Sam, legs crossed.

“Figuring out what happened to them has been my goal for so long. Now I’ve done it. And yet, I don’t feel better. I know what happened, but not why. Why were my parents murdered, especially like that? Why them?”

Sam purses his lips. “You’ve been through so much, and I understand I can’t truly get how you feel, but stop and think. Look at you.” He waves a hand in my direction. “Are you glad you know what happened? Wasn’t it better not knowing?”

I brace my arms behind me. The truth will haunt me forever. Like Tommy said, now that I know, I can’t not. I’ll always wonder what they went through. I’ll always carry their suffering with me.

Would I wipe my memory clean if I could?

“No. It wasn’t better. Even though knowing is horrible, I’m glad I do. My parents deserve to have their suffering be recognized.”

“Okay,” Sam says slowly, “think about this. You’ve hurt enough, Mel. Look at Tommy. He carries his past with him every day. He hides his pain, but I know him well, so I see it anyway. He’s not happy, not even in his best moments. My point is, you don’t want to end up carrying ghosts with you forever. Acknowledge the truth. Honor it. Then let it go.”

I look away, twirling a lock of hair around my finger. Sam’s right. If I keep digging, who knows what other horrors I’ll unearth. Maybe my parents did stuff. Bad stuff. Or maybe I’ll learn the specifics of what happened to them. I don’t know if I could handle that.

But can I really just … let go?

Tommy’s tormented expression hangs in my vision. What sort of violence, exactly, put such agony in his eyes?

Sickness twists my mind, a fervent hatred boiling deep in my marrow. The inferno rises, grows hotter until I’m blazing with it. Drowning in it. Burning alive.

My parents were good. They didn’t deserve what happened to them. I’m not letting anything go until I know who did this and why.

Until I hunt them down and make them pay.

It’s not easy, but I rein in the fury and turn it into fuel. I will see this through. “I have to know. I have to understand.”

Sam sighs. “At least think on it. Give yourself time to process before you decide. You might change your mind.”

I give him a tight nod, though my decision’s made. “I can do that.”

“Good.” Sam’s smile is brittle. “Hey, will you be okay tonight? It’s getting late, but I can stay if you want. We could talk about something else.”

The ghost of a grin flits across my face. He might be nice, but I’m not letting a guy I barely know spend the night. “I’ll be fine. Thanks, though. For everything. It feels good to get all this out.”

“Yeah. You’re welcome. I know we only just met, but I’m here for you if you need to talk.” Sam gives my knee a squeeze. He climbs to his feet, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand.

After a quick good-night, I’m on my own. I flop down on the bed, revulsion simmering like poison in my blood. Behind my lids, my parents suffer all manner of horrific deaths, over and over.

This is why I’m here. Why I can never let it go.

No matter the cost.