What Lay in the Dark

by Casey L. Nash

  ***

  Once again, I woke up in Egan’s bed. I really needed to learn how to go home at night.

  Egan’s arms were around me and I looked up to find him still asleep. I tried to look over him to where the clock was, but his arms tightened. I looked back at him, but he was still asleep. I smiled and lay my head back down. I didn’t understand how I could be this comfortable with him.

  I thought back to Egan’s small gestures last night. Taking my hand, touching my hair, the hug. Was it possible that Egan actually felt a slight bit of affection for me? Sighing, I shook my head. That was too much to hope for.

  He woke up a few minutes later. “What’s the time?” he groaned.

  “I don’t know.”

  Egan loosened his arms and rolled over to see the clock. “It’s seven.” As he spoke, he rolled back to look at me. “You need to get up?”

  I nodded. “I should probably go home and change my clothes. I’ve been wearing these for too long.”

  Egan nodded, and I forced myself to get up, sighing. Egan followed suit.

  “Will you be okay?” he asked. “On your own?”

  I smiled. “I’ll be fine.”

  Egan nodded.

  “I’ll see you later then,” I murmured.

  Egan nodded again and followed me to the front door. He waved goodbye before disappearing back inside. I smiled and began walking.

  Thankfully, my house wasn’t too far from Egan’s; I was there in no time. I took a shower and slipped into some fresh clothes before I ate breakfast. Feeling better, I was ready to face the day and work.

  I opened the front door and was just about to head out when I turned and looked into the house. I wasn’t sure why. I was rooted to the spot. It was as though a part of me didn’t want to leave, but I didn’t understand it. When the smell of smoke filled my nostrils I didn’t twig. I just thought it was strange and stood still, staring at my table.

  “Ailia?” I heard Egan’s voice. “I just got a call from Samuel. Are you alright?” Egan walked up to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. Subconsciously, I put my finger to his lips.

  “Why does it smell like smoke?” he sniffed the air and started wandering through the house. It never registered that I should be helping him find the source of the fire. I still stood there, dazed.

  “Ailia?” Egan called, returning. “Your house is on fire.”

  “It’s okay, it won’t hurt us,” my voice sounded distant, alien. I didn’t feel my mouth form the words, but knew I said them.

  “Yes, it will, we’ve got to get out of here.”

  “No. It’s nice here.” I felt the room heat up. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the yellow-orange glow. None of it really seemed important.

  “Ailia?”

  I stared at the table. The flames drew close, licking at everything they could find.

  “Ailia! Look at me!” Egan commanded, turning my face towards him. Suddenly I was staring into something deep and green, peaceful, like the moss on the trees in the forest. But there was something else. Urgency. Desperation. “Ailia!”

  Something inside me clicked. Suddenly I saw everything; the terror in Egan’s eyes and the flames behind him, groping their way closer to us every second. I panicked.

  “C’mon,” Egan grabbed my hand and pulled me out the door. We collapsed on the front lawn, coughing from the smoke. We gasped for air and watched as the red and yellow tendrils licked their way into every nook and cranny. We backed away, mesmerised.

  A fire truck rolled up soon after thanks to one of the neighbours. They tried to save as much as they could, but I didn’t think they’d get far. The water from the hoses spewed and pummelled into the house. Glass shattered, hissing sounds could be heard down the block. The flames danced on.

  Egan put an arm around my shoulders. “Are you all right?”

  I nodded, “I think so. You?”

  “I’ll be okay.”

  Slowly the flames diminished, leaving only the burnt ruins of what was once a small house, my house. Egan called Kieran and told him what happened and that I wouldn’t be going to work. He sat with me on the edge of the lawn.

  A fireman came over and told us they were still looking for a definitive cause, but it was looking like electrical. Egan thanked him, but there was a dark look in his eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked as soon as the man left.

  “Electrical. That’s what goes in the papers when they can’t work out what really happened.”

  I looked down. “Was it...” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence.

  “I don’t know,” Egan confessed. “But I would think so.”