Page 115 of Torched Spades

I’m still for a few beats, and then everything boils over. The sky falls, and so do I—right onto the top of the desk where one sweep of my arms sends everything in their path sailing across the room. “Son of a bitch!”

Someone Meredith wouldn’t have questioned.

Like the Department of Justice.

My neck snaps up, the silence replaced by the wailing shriek of the lobby smoke alarm.

With the shrill warning ringing in my ears, I watch, dumbfounded, as thick plumes of smoke curl under my office door. As if summoned by their leader, smaller clouds filter in from the two overhead air vents.

I cough.

Then I cough again.

I have to get the hell out of here.

My head swims in a river of truth and lies as I stumble over the strewn items from my desk toward the door. A surge of panic tears through me, and I slam my hand against the scalding door handle.

Fuck, that burns!

Trying not to focus on the growing layer of smoke, I run back to my desk and grab my suit jacket off the back of my chair. Quickly wrapping it around my hand, I stagger back to the door and try again. Giving it one hard tug, I tumble out into a lobby engulfed in flames. Consumed with shock, I watch in horror as pieces of the ceiling fall to the floor and disintegrate.

My knees almost buckle as another truth swims through my head.

I’m trapped.

It’s my last thought before blinding white pain explodes across the back of my head. I don’t know I’ve hit the ground until my shoulder slams against the tile, and I roll onto my back, the ceiling nothing but a collage of black and white spots.

Pain unlike anything I’ve ever felt pours into every crevice of my body, pinning my arms and legs to the floor. Everything is distorted and blurry. My eyes are heavy, but I fight their pull because with the fire still raging around me, I know once they close, they’ll never open.

I wonder if this is how Jack felt at the end?

The thought robs what little oxygen I have left. I let out a few wheezing gasps before my cheek falls to the side.

Through the smoke, I see him. Muscular legs circle me, but I don’t bother begging for help. That’s the last shred of dignity I’ll take with me.

“Beg me.”

I conceded to him once. Not again. Never again.

My father lied to me for twenty-two years, and the one time he chose to tell the truth I refused to face it. As much as I want to believe his deceit is the reason, I know deep down it’s not. It’s because of a bruised heart that had just started to heal.

I didn’t listen.

And because I didn’t, what happened to that heart?

“It went up in flames,” I whisper before closing my eyes and fading into the darkness.

The End…

For Now