Well, I really messed up now. Crap. Crap. Come on, do something. You've done it before. You can ruin my life when it's going fine, but when it's circling the drain you decide not to burn everything.

I was sitting in a cold plastic chair, the smell of smoke and fire wafting around me. The horrid scent slicing my nostrils as it slid in, making my stomach churn and stiffening my back. I hate that smell. I should be used to it. It's been around me all my life. But every time I get a whiff of ash or fire I get nauseous. I just want to throw up. At least then I cover that smell with something less disgusting

In front of me was a small table and the chubby officer that found me. He was sitting across from me with a beakish older woman. Both of them had dark suits, both had smiles that looked friendly. But I wonder what's behind that expression. Is one of them afraid of me and the other is holding back rage? Or are they hiding the same expression, waiting to leave the room to finally show it?

The chubby man leaned over as he polished up his smile. "Listen, we're not gonna hurt you. We just wanna know a few things."

I reverted my eyes to the brown walls of the small room and the faded green carpets with stains. Anywhere but their faces. Looking back at my hands they were trembling, stained with ash. At least it isn't singed skin or body parts. At this time at least. I could still feel the numbing buzz in the center of my palms. The feeling made my skin crawl. If I whack my wrist hard enough against the edge of the table maybe it'll be enough to pop them off. Or break the skin.

"Miss." The beak lady cut in, taking a step closer.

I scooted my chair away from her in response. She'll learn fast that things close to me will get burned.

I could hear a sigh escaping her mouth, the chubby man cleared his throat to break the uncomfortable air building between us.

"Look, we got eyewitnesses that saw you running out of the building when it caught on fire. We're not saying you caused it. We just wanna know if you saw anything."

Of course someone saw me. It's how I got here. Someone at the center saw me and the fire, called the police and brought me here. That's how it goes. Somebody has to watch while I sink deeper into my hole.

"Did anyone get hurt?" I croaked out.

I just wanted a place to rest. I've been walking since morning. I was so tired. I just wanted someplace warm to sleep in for once. That stupid center had nice chairs, it felt better than cement. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry.

"No." The beak lady squawked back. "Everyone got out with a couple of burns but that was about it."

The buzzing in my hands dulled. I let out some air that was building in the back of my lungs. No new blood was added to the fire. Good.

Just put a bullet through me.

"Um," I said softly. "Can I sleep here tonight? Please?"

I could feel the confused looks turn into judgment. Their eyes digging in as I kept my head to the ground. Should have expected that.

"Don't you live anywhere in town?" The chubby man spoke up. His voice getting heavier. It sounds like judgment.

People who burn their homes don't deserve one.

I shook my head. "No."

"Where's your parents?"

Which ones? The ones that died or the foster parents that sent me back after a week of living with them?

"I don't have any."

"What's your name?"

Only a matter of time till they see the massive report of "arson" next to my record. I kept quiet, lacing my fingers against each other as I stared at the ground. The silence between the chubby man and the beak lady was prickling against my ears.

"We'll be right back." The chubby man assured.

The sound of chairs scooting and the door opening then closing entered my ears. The sound of silence wrapping over my body once again like a worn-out blanket. Filled with stains, holes, and tears. The numbing buzz in my fingers were starting to tingle. My short brown hair covering the sides of my cheek. The smell of fire still soaked between the strands and my clothes, it made my stomach churn.

If I throw up will be there be fire in it? I know I checked my blood. No embers in there. All there was red liquid and misery.

Fire followed me ever since I was born. At first, it was small sparks of ember dancing in my hands. It felt warm and comforting. Now, it spreads and just eats anything in my sight. It doesn't care if I was happy or in danger. All it cares is what can it use to keep the fire going.

The sound of the door opening cracked the silence in my ears. Wonder what's gonna happen now? Jail would be the best. I bet that concrete walls and iron bars are more fireproof than drywall and soft beds.

"Well heya."

That didn't sound like the chubby man or the beak lady. I looked up and to see that a new pair had walked in. Both guys. One was tall and full while the other was short and mousy. The tall one stood about a shoulder above the mousy man. He had rough scruffs of hair poking out of his face as he'd smile at me. Short brown spikes poked through a cap as violent and white eyes glanced at me.

The mousy man was a bit more reserved than his friend. He had on a hoodie as that covered most of the frame of his body. His long, thin, arms cradled around each other as green eyes scanned the room. A mop of black frizzy hair laid on the top of his skull as he kept to the back. Staring at me with a thin kind smile.

Weirdest social workers I've ever seen. The cops must have brought them in. Guess that means they found out who I am.

The tall man glanced around the room whistling around as he sat down at the chair across from me.

"Kinda cramped in here, isn't it?" He laughed lightly.

The hoodie guy just sat down in a chair next to his friend shrugging. "Eh, I don't know. I think it's about the same size as the rooms back at home."

Wait...was there another chair? I'm pretty sure there was only one chair when I was brought here. When was there a second one? Did they bring it in when I wasn't looking?

The tall man looked over at his friend with a concerned expression. "Really? Well crap. We're gonna have to fix that when we get back."

"Um," I coughed, cutting their conversation. "Can I go to my cell now?"

"Oh no! We're just here to talk to you." The tall man smiled.

I pushed back in chair scooting further away from them. Guess they finally looked me up. Guess I'm gonna be staying in jail longer than I thought. My hands started to buzz. The numbness around them turning into a faint burning sensation. Crap. Calm down. Just calm down.

I sucked in a breath, trying to settle the heat centering in my palms. " Look I'm really tired-"

"It has to be hard discovering that you're a witch by yourself."

I just stared at the two. Watching them to see if their sincere faces would break into a laugh. One final joke before flinging me in a concrete box in layers of metal and my skin. But their expressions held, not a flinch or a crack. They were serious. Oh god, I am going to an asylum instead. Don't know if that's better or worse.

"Wh...what?" I stammered.

The two looked at each other, the tall man's face dropped in dread. While the hoodie man rubbed his face with hands that had spots of dirt stamped on them.

"Oh god," The tall man whispered. "She doesn't know. I feel so horrible now."

"That would explain a lot." The hoodie man muttered. "I mean we kinda assume, so that makes us assholes."

The heat in my hands was starting to boiling. The numbness spidering it's way to my arms. Each pore of my skin setting themselves on fire from each lick of the fire. Not again. Please stop. An abandoned building is okay, a center is tough but doable, but a police station is a little harder to walk away from with no one getting hurt.

"Look," I grumbled. "I don't care where you take me. I just wanna sleep."

"Yeah totally, I understand." The tall man nodded, putting on his smile again. "That's why we're here. We were gonna talk with you're magic but if you didn't know that you're a witch-"

"Shut up!" I snapped sharply.

The crack of my voice whipping the air, igniting the sweat on my skin ablaze. Covering them in a glove of flames that danced around each other. The embers that licked my face felt warm but soft as if they were silk gliding across them. Gentle and kind.

Yet my blood ran cold and my heart rammed itself into my chest. Wanting to escape. I shot my arms forward as I leaned back. Staying far away from them as possible. I was screaming. Horror crawling out of my throat as I saw everything I burned in the fires. My first foster home. My bed. The snot covered bully that made fun of me, a street that was too loud and I couldn't sleep, the center. It was still there. The smell was embedded in me. The ashes caked my skin. The charcoal underneath my fingernails.

It will never leave. I can never wash it away.

My lungs were starting to collapse from the amount of air that was being forced in. A cool crisp cold air brushed against my face. The fire was gone, smothered away from a blanket of snow falling on top of it. I looked over at the two, both staring at me with solemn. The man in the hoodie left hand was reached open, small snowflakes falling out on the table.

The tall man took in a deep breath before speaking again. "I am so sorry you went through that by yourself. Not knowing what you are. Afraid of your abilities. Hurting others when you didn't mean to. It's gruesome. I can't imagine the pain you went through. I'm sorry you never had anyone to tell or help you."

I centered myself, breathing heavily. My lungs trying to establish a healthy amount of air to cycle back in. The numbness trickling out of my arms like gel.

"But that's why we're here." he continued. "We're just like you. Able to do things that are frightening or wonderful. Magic is both. We want to help you see it's not something to be afraid of. I work with people that were alone and afraid of who they are. And we want to help you."

I watched them closely as they kept their eyes on me. They looked like they meant it. I never had that gaze. It was always fear or judgment. That I would set them on fire cause someone said a wrong thing around me. Or I enjoy setting random things on fire. They would become harsh around me if I said I didn't do it. I began to think that's why my parents died when I was still a baby. That they knew I was gonna end up like this.

"Who are you guys?" I asked, forcing down tightness that tried to crawl up.

"Wizards." The hoodie man said. "Or magicians if you like the neutral term."

"We run a resource and home center for those with magic." The tall man explained. "It's a safe place for those who are afraid of their abilities and those who don't have homes because of circumstances. Magic can have a lot of effect on people. And our job to help show the positives of it, and not to be afraid of what it can bring."

"This isn't like a dream is it?" I asked, a laugh getting forced out.

"Oh god no," The tall man laughed. "I can't enter a person's dreams. That's a complicated magic."

The hoodie man raised his hand. "Botomancy."

I looked over at the tall man. "You?"

"Little bit of everything." He shrugged. "So would you like to come with us? I know it sounds crazy but I promise you it's real."

Can't be worse from where I am. Surrounded by damage people instead of a constant wave of judgment and shame.

"Sure." I nodded slowly.

"Great!" The tall man exclaimed. "I'm Ian and this guy over here is Andy."

The hoodie man waved giving me a gentle smile.

"Meril." I waved back slowly.

"Alright, let's go!"

The two got up and headed over to the door, Andy springing over to it with each step.

"Wait now?" I asked, my legs rooting around the legs of the chair.

Both of them turned back at me with a casual expression.

"Yeah, why not?" Ian asked. "They're all asleep."

I walked over to the open door into the hallway to see the chubby man and the beak lady were on the ground. Asleep. Up in the bullpen, all the officers camped in their desks were slumped over. Sleeping. At least I hope they were.

"Aren't they gonna notice that I'm gone?" I asked as the two walked into the bullpen.

"Nope," Ian assured, poking one that was sleeping atop on their computer. "As soon as we leave they're gonna wake up and forget all about you. I hope. I'm not that good at memory altering spells."

I looked over at Andy who rolled his eyes against my concerned confused look.

"They won't," Andy said calmly. "I helped him with it."

Don't know if that helps or confirms that I made a huge mistake in joining a murderous cult. So why am I following them? Why did I agree to go with them? Do I actually believe them? Some part of me does, it's why I'm going along. Or am I just doing it cause I wanna run away from me?

"Okay." Ian sighed, gazing over the room. "Which one did we use for teleport?"

Andy pointed over at a door near the kitchen area, the wood-engraved with glowing purple ink and markings inside it.

Ian nodded and jogged over, putting a hand on the doorknob and looked back at me.

"You ready?" Ian asked.

I nodded slowly, wiping off the small beads of sweat off my skin. Pinching the numbness that was building up in my fingers. I walked over to the door where Ian and Andy stood. Any minute now I can wake up and go back to the living nightmare I go through. But this dream is better than anything that I could make up.