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It was the only way for him to win—to earn the right to help another like him wash away one of their dirty, filthy phobias.
As he sat in his house, on the couch in front of the coffee table, he looked down at the unlit candle. Next to it, a pack of matches he’d never lit before. He’d never lit a match in general.
He couldn’t stand fire.
In fact, he loathed it more than almost anything else.
After all, it was in the fire that his father had died.
He stared at the candle, remembering the night that changed his life forever. The smell of the smoke, the sound of the crackling flames, the heat of the fire.
He shuddered and closed his eyes, trying to push away the memories. He knew he couldn’t move forward without facing it. He knew he had to light the candle.
But now he was remembering his father’s body. It was a mangled mess, covered in blisters and burns. His skin had bubbled and peeled, charred black in many places. His once-vibrant hair was singed and limp, the color fading from his face as the life slowly drained from him.
The air was thick with the stench of burning flesh and hair, mixing with the acrid smell of smoke to create an unbearable odor. It was a sickly sweet smell that lingered in the air and clung to everything it touched, a reminder of what lay ahead for anyone who got too close to the flames.
He had avoided fire ever since.
Never lit a match or a lighter.
Never sat around a campfire.
Never.
He told himself he never would.
And yet here he was, ready to conquer his fear. He had to admit, he was proud of himself. He was making such great leaps lately.
Helped that he had such great motivation.
Helping others—absolving them of their fears—made him feel more powerful than anything in the world. Whenever he took a life, he knew he was freeing them from their fears forever. It was a beautiful thing, wasn’t it?
He felt like a hero. A champion of justice, a savior of those who were too afraid to face their own fears. He felt invincible, as if he could conquer any fear thrown his way. He was doing something good in the world, and it gave him an immense sense of satisfaction.
He took a deep breath and picked up the matches. He slowly and carefully struck one, and the flame lit. He watched as it burned, transfixed by its beauty and power.
He could feel his fear slowly dissipating.
Now, all he had to do was light the candle.
He slowly brought the match closer to the wick, and his hands shook. He could feel the sweat pour down his face, and he tried to tell himself that it was okay, that he was safe.
Finally, he was able to light the candle. He watched as the flame grew brighter, and a feeling of relief washed over him. He’d done it. He’d faced his fear, and he’d won.
Now, he was ready to take on anything. He was ready to help others face their fears and conquer their anxieties. He was ready to live a life without fear.
And with that candle burning brightly in his house, he knew he was on the right track.
He had earned the right to free another person from their fears.
But who would he choose?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
While driving to Shady Acres Zoo to speak to the suspect, the last thing Jake wanted was to get stuck in traffic. The roads were clogged with vehicles, some crawling along at a snail’s pace while others were stopped altogether. Jake could see the cars ahead of him, barely moving, and he wished they’d all just disappear. He could smell the exhaust from the other cars, mixed with the sweet fragrance of summer blossoms and the heat from the sun baking the asphalt. At least that part was kind of nice.
Plus, he had Fiona at his side, in the passenger seat. He had to admit, she wasn’t bad company.
