thenameislahey:

iamthefirechild:

He touched her, took her hands; it increased the sensation of falling down a deep well. She wasn’t sure which was worse — his fear or the half-distinct emotions of the people all around. She could almost feel his pulse.

A breath. A step. A breath, a step. A breath a step. Breath step.

Her hand hit the door of the car, and she groped for the handle, almost fell into the seat. The shaking didn’t stop, but the sparks didn’t appear, either, and she knew that was a good thing. She couldn’t completely control the fire yet. It worked, but she couldn’t control it. Better to convulse.

So she curled herself in the seat as small as possible, trying to lock her bones in place, trying not to shake out of her skin.

     Once he was sure she was inside the car, he shut the door and jogged around to the driver’s side, getting in as quickly as he could manage. After reversing out of the parking spot surprisingly well all things considered, he drove onto the road, eager to reach the forest as soon as possible, pushing the gas pedal a little further than he really should have but was careful not to speed too much — the last thing they needed was to be pulled over.

     He let out a small sigh of relief when they arrived at the woods. He sloppily parked the car and watched worriedly as Summer exited the vehicle into the clearing.

     ”I know it’s hard but try to focus on your breathing,” he did his best to keep his voice low and steady as he got out of his seat and walked around the car slowly until he was a yard away from her.

     ”Just breathe,” he repeated. Maybe if he said it enough times it would work.

Every mile — every /foot/ — made the volume lessen, turned the dial down on the input. Now she just had to deal with what was already in her system. Every muscle, every bone, ached, and every breath brought a helpless whimper with it. She couldn’t stand, and collapsed to her knees on the dirt and leaves, planting her hands down.

Abstractedly she watched her forearms tremble, a wave of muscle contractions pulling her back into an arc. Isaac was there; she could taste him, wild but contained. The sheer stillness of a stalking predator. Her voice was colorless and clear as she asked, “Why are you afraid of me?”

thenameislahey:

iamthefirechild:

She dug her fingers into her skull as if that would somehow block out the emotional babble of a thousand people pouring through her mind. Someone was there, close, too close, there was a shadow between her and the light—

Issac. Issac was speaking, frowning, blue eyes dark; Issac was worried. Breathe he said.

“Can’t.” It was almost a sob. “Hurts.” And that was a sob. “Too many, too much, make it stop, please make it stop.” She kept her eyes open, kept them on his, because it would hurt less if she just fell into him, right? One person, that had to be easier than the crowd of thousands roaring in a hot-light jumble, overwhelming all her senses.

But if she just looked at him, just at those eyes, those hands arms shoulders chest heartbeat he was afraid of her why was he afraid of her a ribbon of grey leading back and back and back fear and control and helplessness what was that in his past why was it so cold—

Something sizzled against her skin — why was she crying? A spark rose lazily off her skin and drifted up between them. Summer became aware that her hands were shaking. That her whole body was trembling, great long shudders that jolted her teeth together and wormed pain through every muscle.

“Please,” she managed, through clenched jaws, “get me out of here.”

    “Try. Just breathe.” He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to touch her in case she lashed out. Not because he was afraid of getting hurt but because of all the people around that would see the demonstration of her power.

    It pained him to see her like this, crying, overwhelmed by everything around her. Everyone reacted to it differently. Some needed to be held, others needed to be alone — though having the ability to control fire was definitely a game changer. He took a deep breath of his own before moving closer, desperately hoping she didn’t expose herself.

     ”Come on, the car is right over there,” he whispered soothingly into her ear as he tried to get her to walk in its direction, his hands grasping hers — perhaps the warmth of his fingers would be calming.

     They were maybe a five minute drive from the auto shop to the nearest part of the forest. It might not be the best idea because she could start a forest fire but he was out of options and could only hope if she started one, she’d be able to put it out.

He touched her, took her hands; it increased the sensation of falling down a deep well. She wasn’t sure which was worse — his fear or the half-distinct emotions of the people all around. She could almost feel his pulse.

A breath. A step. A breath, a step. A breath a step. Breath step.

Her hand hit the door of the car, and she groped for the handle, almost fell into the seat. The shaking didn’t stop, but the sparks didn’t appear, either, and she knew that was a good thing. She couldn’t completely control the fire yet. It worked, but she couldn’t control it. Better to convulse.

So she curled herself in the seat as small as possible, trying to lock her bones in place, trying not to shake out of her skin.

thenameislahey:

iamthefirechild:

Of all the times for her fragile control to be overwhelmed — it had to be while her car was in the shop. So many people, too many people, too many emotions — it felt like her head was splitting like a shot watermelon. Summer perched on the brick edging outside the mechanic’s, clutching her head and trying very, very hard not to scream. Nearly invisible in the sunlight, sparks licked up from her fingertips.

     Since Summer had to bring her car to the auto shop, Isaac had offered to give her a lift home but suddenly her demeanor changed, something was very wrong.

     When he saw the beginnings of a fire sprouting from the tips of her fingers he was given an idea of just how bad things were. He had never seen her lose control before and the thought terrified him but he could back away, he had to try and help her.

     ”Hey,” his voice was soft as he called out, “Summer just close your eyes and breathe,” he did his best to speak in a soothing tone, the sound low in pitch and quiet. “Just breathe.”

She dug her fingers into her skull as if that would somehow block out the emotional babble of a thousand people pouring through her mind. Someone was there, close, too close, there was a shadow between her and the light —

Isaac. Isaac was speaking, frowning, blue eyes dark; Isaac was worried. Breathe he said.

“Can’t.” It was almost a sob. “Hurts.” And that /was/ a sob. “Too many, too much, make it stop, please make it stop.” She kept her eyes open, kept them on his, because it would hurt less if she just fell into him, right? One person, that had to be easier than the crowd of thousands roaring in a hot-light jumble, overwhelming all her senses.

But if she just looked at him, just at those eyes, those hands arms shoulders chest heartbeat he was afraid of her why was he afraid of her a ribbon of grey leading back and back and back fear and control and helplessness what was that in his past why was it so cold —

Something sizzled against her skin — why was she crying? A spark rose lazily off her skin and drifted up between them. Summer became aware that her hands were shaking. That her whole body was trembling, great long shudders that jolted her teeth together and wormed pain through every muscle.

“Please,” she managed, through clenched jaws, “get me out of here.”