Ember X (Death Collectors) - By Jessica Sorensen Page 0,6
has had me by the throat since I was four when I accidently took my grandmother’s life.
“Dude, why do you look like you’re about to commit murder?” My brother, Ian, leans against the kitchen doorway, singeing a stray thread on his hoodie with a lighter. His scraggily brown hair is hidden beneath a grey beanie and, as usual, he has paint all over his hands. He’s about the same height as me and kind of scrawny. There have been a lot of times where people thought he was younger than me.
I shake my head and snatch the lighter from his hands. “Why do you insist on being a pyro? You’re going to hurt yourself one day. Or hurt someone else.”
He lunges for the lighter, but I dodge around him and dash into the kitchen where the carpet switches to tile. I smash the lighter against the floor and watch it break.
“What the heck is wrong with you?” Ian shouts, picking up the broken pieces.
Ian is twenty-one, two years older than me, and he still lives at home. At sixteen, he declared himself a struggling artist, which meant he would forever live here, raiding the refrigerator and hanging out in the attic—his “studio.”
He snatches my hand and grips tightly. “Why do you have to be such a bitch sometimes?”
I tense as I feel his death coarse through me like venom. Fire everywhere, the roof of our house roaring in flames. Ian lies on the floor, dying—he wants to be there. I jerk away and suck a sharp breath through my nose. I’ve seen his death before, and each time is equally as painful. In a beautiful world full of roses and sunshine, I’d be able to change his self-inflicting death. But as far as I know, death omens are irrevocable and as permanent as the ink that stains the pages of my journal.
He rubs the black and yellow paint off his cheeks. “Look, Em, I’m sorry, okay?” He glances at Raven, worried about her reaction. “I just haven’t been sleeping that great lately.”
“It’s okay. And I’m sorry I broke your lighter.” I pick up the rest of the pieces of the lighter and toss them into the trash. “Are you taking your medication still?”
He massages the back of his neck, looking tense. “I am, but I’m not sure I need to anymore. It’s been two years since Alyssa… And I’m feeling pretty good these days.”
The fact that he can’t talk about her death proves he’s not ready to get off his medication. Ian never forgave himself for the disappearance of Alyssa, his high school girlfriend, which ultimately led to her body being discovered in the lake.
After her body was found, Ian spent his entire senior year drunk and stoned. He even tried to kill himself once, although he denies it to this day, saying he accidently swallowed too many pills, but I know the truth—I read his goodbye note.
When I discovered him on the bathroom floor, unconscious and barely breathing, I knew he wasn’t going to die, but it still scared the shit out of me. He loved Alyssa so much and the guilt of her loss consumes his life and poisons his head with dark thoughts he may never get rid of.
His arms open for a hug, but I evade around him. “Raven and I are headed out. Let Mom know I’ll be home late… if she shows up.”
He goes to the cupboard and takes out a box of cereal. “Even if she comes home, she’ll be too drunk to notice.”
“I know.” I gather the dirty dishes off the table and put them in the sink. “But I thought I’d let you know just in case, by some small miracle, she comes home sober and notices I’m not here.”
He waves at us as we head for the front door. “Yeah, yeah, will do.”
Raven blows him a flirty kiss. “Thanks, Hun.”
Ian questioningly raises his eyebrows. “Hun?”
I jerk the door open. “I thought you said you would never go out with him?”
She shrugs and whisks out the front door, waggling her fingers and shimmying her hips. “I won’t, but I never said I wouldn’t flirt with him.”
I wave goodbye to Ian. “See you later and if you need anything, call me.”
“Oh yeah, I almost forgot.” He backs into the kitchen and, seconds later, returns with my journal. “This was on the front porch this morning.”
Astonished, I take my journal and brush the dirt off the black leather cover. “Do you know how