Separation
It wasn’t fair.
Nowadays he was always doing this; it amused him. And she was always the target. Mum said she and her twin had always made things up, so how was she to know if this was true now? Just move on, mum said.
She flapped at another small inferno, quenching it. Soft giggling followed her actions, then a taunting voice whispered–in her head?
“Well done–you’re okay now, but just wait ‘til you’re asleep. What’ll you do then, Sally girl?”
Sally shivered: What would she do? What made her brother want to set her alight? Why didn’t mum see the small burn marks on the bedding, and believe her?
Once dawn came, she’d be okay. He never stayed after the first rays of the sun hit the walls. She knew she could sleep then. Watching anxiously for any telltale flickers was something she’d grown up with; nothing new there.
Billy used to throw lighted matches out of the window; making stars he called it. He’d laugh hysterically, and she’d watch the small sticks blossom into orange life. Watch as each match withered under the heat onslaught. Then as Billy flicked it casually away, and it twisted out of his fingers, she’d watch as it dropped down into flowerbeds below. Safe out of the way.
That was before the night Billy had got careless and set himself alight. Huge uncontrollable flames had engulfed him, eventually. She remembered his frantic screams, and his fire-drowned, desperate eyes–begging her for help. Revolted, she’d watched in fascinated horror–in an instant freed from his shadow to live her own life.
But now it was her turn to burn.
