Page 3 of Dark Flame

“She is evil,” said the woman slurring her words. “I want her out of the house now! This is the last time that… that little demon will ruin my home!”

The woman didn’t care if the money from the government would stop. She would just tell the man that the little girl was sick or in school when he came by. What she did know was that she wouldn’t allow this little witch to live in her home any longer.

“She’s a child, Dolores, a fucking child!”

George tried to remain calm, but the anger in Dolores’s eyes was nearly his undoing. He knew the woman would hurt the child if given the chance. He wondered once more why he stayed with her, but he knew the answer. He honestly loved the little girl and hoped that he could protect her in some way, and maybe, maybe one day, when Delores wasn’t looking, he would take the child away to a safe place.

“She’s an evil witch, and I want her out of my house! That little bitch set fire to the bedroom and ruined my new blanket,” she said, swaying from side to side.

The man stood in front of the tiny blonde girl, his skinny, sickly body hoping to deflect any blows thrown her way. He loved the little girl with all his heart, even though she wasn’t biologically his own.

Dolores was the mother of five children, none of whom she could recall who their father was. This one, though, was the only one that the state hadn’t taken yet! It was only a matter of time before a social worker would pop by unexpectedly. They would see the conditions the poor child had to live in and take her away. Then again, they might never visit.

Sweet little Nadine. She had the face of an angel, all big blue eyes and curly blonde hair. However, when the child was startled, she seemed to have the ability to set fire to things. Flames would flicker from her fingertips, and she would raise her hands and POOF! Something would catch fire.

George wasn’t sure how, but he knew she was special and vowed to protect her. He also knew that, given the chance, Delores would sell the child to the highest bidder.

“I want her out! Take her and drop her at the orphanage or a state home. Hell, I don’t give a fuck! Put her out of my house now!”

The heavy woman swayed once more and took a step toward George and the little girl. Her breath smelled of alcohol and cigarettes, her sweat-stained cotton dress clinging to the rolls of fat on her body. The listless, thin, gray hair lay flat on her head.

The little girl cowered behind George, praying that he would protect her. She didn’t want to hurt them, but she wouldn’t let the woman hit her again. Dolores was so much bigger than her. It hurt more and more every time. She knew she should call her Mother, Mom, or Mommy, but Dolores was no mother to anyone.

“Dolores, no… no, Dolores…” pleaded George.

“Get out of my way!” she shoved George to the side and reached for the little girl’s hair pulling her along the floor and slinging her across the room.

She cried out in pain as she hit the wall. Her tiny body reacted without thought. She could feel the heat rising in her hands, her fingers flickering behind her back.

George reached for Dolores’s arm, and she swung hard at his head, hitting him in the temple. His body crumpled to the floor, and the little girl let out a wail. The woman looked shocked at first. A brief look of remorse moved across her face, and then nothing except anger.

“See what you made me do? Do you see this? You did this!” she screamed hysterically, pointing toward George’s body.

Nadine recognized the anger. Hate filled the eyes of the woman, and she scrambled away. But the woman would not be deterred. She continued toward the little girl and then noticed her hands raising against her.

“You little bitch! You think you’re going to hurt me? I’ll show you pain,” she said, staggering toward the tiny figure.

Dolores felt the warmth before she saw the flames. Looking down at the hem of her dress, flames of red, yellow, and orange danced along the hemline. It seemed they had a life of their own, images of faces smiling at her from within. She stepped back and tripped over the small coffee table, falling backwards, splintering the wood into tiny fragments, her head hitting the tiled floors with a sickening thud.

The flames licked against her thighs and moved up the dress, but the woman didn’t move. Her body lay still against the floor, her head bleeding.

The little girl watched for a moment. The flames were beautiful in a perfectly destructible way. She should douse the fire with water or throw a blanket on her, but the longer Nadine watched the flames consume Dolores’s body, the more she knew it was her only chance.

Knowing that the fire and police departments would come soon, she dashed to her bedroom and filled the small backpack with the few clothing items she possessed and the one doll that George had bought for her.

Racing back into the living room, she pushed her small feet into the well-worn tennis shoes and scanned the room, gathering some crackers and cookies from the pantry. She filled her water bottle and shoved that in her backpack as well.

Looking around once more, she scanned the small house to see if there was anything else she might need. Seeing George lying in a pool of blood, she shed a small tear and knelt, kissing his forehead. She saw the thin leather wallet protruding from his pocket and pulled it out.

Her stomach roiled at the thought of taking his money, but she knew she would need it. Thirty-six dollars. That’s all he had to his name. Looking around the room once more, she spotted Delores’s purse. Opening the small change purse she always kept inside, Nadine retrieved a large wad of cash.

Where would Delores get so much cash? Nadine couldn’t count that high yet, but there had to be a thousand dollars in the small purse. Nadine tucked it into her backpack and turned one last time as the sirens got louder. She eyed George’s pale face, a tear slipping from her eyes.

“Thank you, George,” she whispered.

Nadine dashed out the back door and across Mrs. Green’s yard, petting the small Yorkshire terrier on the head as she ran. Keeping off the main streets, she kept to the backyards of neighbors as she ran. She heard the wailing of fire engine sirens and ran faster, her little lungs burning with pain from the exertion.

Being eight years old and alone on the streets wasn’t exactly the plan she had created in her head. But with her special skills, Nadine was more capable than most. Anyone who approached her would suddenly find themselves on fire while she made her escape.

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