Peter ran his fingers through his red, shaggy hair and stared at the fire. He tried to keep himself from thinking of that night, the one part of his brain that he kept hidden away from everyone. The crackling sound he once loved now seemed to tease him. He made himself turn away from the fire, but the warm glow seemed so compelling. Peter leaned towards the fire and reached a hand out, and the memory felt like a punch to the stomach and he jolted away from the flames. The memory tugged at his mind until he couldn't resist any more. It came first in painful flashes, then the whole memory replayed in his mind. 

     He was suddenly transported back to his old home in Colorado six years ago, it was a particularly snowy day, and Peter and his mother snuggled on the couch under a warm, fuzzy blanket. His father, Paul, walked into the room and Peter thought he saw a quick flash of pity in his eyes. He reached into the cabinet and pulled out a box of matches. He lit a match, and before Peter could react, he pulled his arm back and threw the match right in their direction. His mother, Julie, turned her head just in time to see the match ignite the couch. Paul fell to the ground wheezing and coughing. Peter was so stunned he couldn't move. The smell of the fire choked him and the heat stung his skin.

      Peter heard a child's voice whisper to him, "touch..it..." and he suddenly felt the urge to do just that. He reached his hand out into the flames and winced, until he realized there was no pain. He opened his eyes and found himself ignited in a purple fire. Julie screamed and splashed a cup of water on him. His chest stung with excruciating pain and he groaned in agony. He fell to his knees and the whole room lit up with the purple flame. The room faded into black and he awoke in the hospital. He had only one scar on his chest where his mother had splashed the water. He was told two people died in the accident; Julie Ervin and Paul Ervin. Peter told no one what he really saw. He told no one what he really heard. He told no one what he really did.

    The sound of the doorbell yanked him back into reality and he peeked through the peephole to find two very eager looking teenagers standing at the on his porch. He unlocked his door and opened it. The short, sweet looking girl with two braids hanging over her shoulders lifted up a metal baseball bat, and before Peter had time to react, the bat came down on him and a heavy twong echoed in his ears just before his vision blurred and he once again became unconscious.