I’m still Under but I won’t be able to hold on much longer. The adrenaline and fear are doing something to me. The room is smoky and burning my eyes. I’m thirstier and dizzier than I’ve ever felt. I feel like I can’t hold on to the power.
Roe stares helplessly at me. I point to the rapidly growing fire. It’s sucking moisture from the room. I’m weakening at an even faster rate than usual. I can’t hold on.
He runs out of the room and reappears a moment later with a fire extinguisher, just as I collapse to the floor. His eyebrows are all screwed up and his nostrils flare. He’s fighting himself to come help me. Zebulund mumbles with his head in his hands. Roe glances between the three emergencies, likely deciding which needs him first: me, fire, or Zebulund.
Every second the moisture sucks from my skin. I’m steaming away like damp wood thrown in a fire pit. Smartly, he chooses the fire, which grows larger with every second.
Roe pulls the pin from the extinguisher and points the hose toward the flames. The sound around me is muffled but a high-pitched wail reaches my ears through the clouds. I’m on the floor watching things from a new angle. Roe is frozen. His gaze scans the ceiling before coming back at me. To my intense surprise and dismay, he drops the extinguisher and hurries to Zebulund.
Okay, maybe he isn’t that smart. He can’t know the fire is drying me out, but he should at least understand that FIRE BAD. I don’t understand his logic but I’m losing the ability to care. He’s racing to help Zebulund. I know he can’t leave with me. There’s no way of getting me out of this room. We’re screwed.
I come Up, lying totally exposed on the floor of my abuser’s office. This day has not gone at all as I’d hoped. I’m too far gone to be anything but numb and I watch the scene around me as another person might. A detached movie reviewer. I feel nothing and have no fear. It’s freeing.
“What do you need?” I think Roe asks. His voice is muffled and far away.
Zebulund is angry. Only a slice of him is visible through the gap under the desk. He’s gesticulating toward the fire but he doesn’t seem to notice me on the floor behind the desk.
Every time I blink it takes my eyes longer to open. So tired. And thirsty. I’m so far past thirsty that I need a new word for it.
I’m hallucinating. In my desperation, I imagine it’s raining inside the office. Cool drops of water soak into my skin like I’m the world’s driest sponge. I open my mouth and let the fake drops seep onto my sandpaper tongue and dribble over cracked lips.
I close my eyes and succumb to the fantasy.
24
Roe
Maggiereally really needs to wake up. I can only keep Zebulund distracted for so long. The second the overhead sprinklers go off he starts yelling.
“Why the hell didn’t you put out the fire?” he screams at me.
“I thought you were having a heart attack.”
“Get those fucking things turned off!”
It takes several attempts, but at last he heaves himself off the couch. The pouring water and leather seats make for a slippery struggle. He launches himself to his desk, using his body to protect his computer. I point the fire extinguisher at the trash. The flames have already been doused but the explosion of chemicals and steam might buy some time. Once the smoke stops the sprinklers do too. Thankfully, Maggie’s gone. Not even I can see her. The door’s open so hopefully she made her way out. Zebulund swears and futilely grabs a few things on his desk and shakes them off.
“Where are towels?” I ask.
“Next door, there’s a closet.”
He’s not swearing as much when I return. Still very angry. After we’ve cleaned up, he checks to make sure his computer’s still working.
“Shit.” He slams a fist on the desk. “It won’t turn on.”
“It doesn’t mean it’s ruined.”
He’s nodding but I can see his thoughts are far away.
“She hasn’t left,” he whispers.
I collect the soaked towels. His office is in shambles. Papers are soaked and curling. The air reeks of melting plastic.
“Did you see her? When you first came in?” he asks me.
“I did.”
“The sage shit didn’t work. The séance didn’t work. My office is ruined. I’m at my wit’s end.” All his joviality is gone.
