Tonight, she did not dream of hell.
She did not dream of a dark emptiness, cold and void, filled with inhuman sounds of countless agonies in voices no human could hear. She didn't dream of a burning fire without beginning or end, without surcease or respite. Didn't dream of burning alone, without another human soul for succor or comfort. In those dreams, that, more than the fire, was what hurt. The loneliness, the solitude, the distance from anyone else she could share anything else with, even if it was just pain, and the knowledge that while she burned, she didn't burn alone.
She did not dream of guilt that filled her at such selfishness, at such a wish to see another soul burn in this hell so that she wouldn't suffer in solitude.
After those dreams, Jaselle would wake up on the edge of becoming plasma. Sometimes her eyes would be burning, and she would need to stumble into her bathroom blind as she tried to rein in the heat, trying to feel for the candy she left there, trying to keep the heat in so that nothing would catch fire…
Tonight, she did not dream of hell.
She did not dream of a dark, hot place, pressure and heat crushing her from every direction. She didn’t dream of a thick, heavy silence as she struggled to break out, to be free. Didn't dream of trying to claw her way to the surface through unyielding stone, trying to pry open the smallest cracks she could find, tried to push her way through what seemed like the weight of the world.
She did not dream of occasionally finding a way out, of traversing a tight, agonizing passage, of her very screams as she struggled to get free seeming to shake the world. Didn't dream of finally, finally breaking free, of finding the open air and sky, of rising up with tears of joy, only to see to her horror that she had brought hell with her. The world burned because of her, in these dreams, poison filling the air as the heavy silence replaced by the screams of the burning, the dying…
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After those dreams, Jaselle would wake up feeling heavy, her bones like stones, her insides burning lava. She would roll off her bed, the floor vibrating as she fell like a rock, pulling in heat so that nothing would burn. Her eyes would be black glass, and she would see from the burning glow of her own skin as she tried to reach the bathroom, struggling to cast off her clothes so they wouldn't burn. She would fall to the cold tile floor until she cooled down enough that candy wouldn't just turn to syrup in her mouth…
Tonight, she did not dream of hell.
She dreamed of darkness. Not empty and cold, not heavy and rushing, but merely the darkness behind your eyes, filled only with your own self. Behind her, just out of the corner of her eye, something loomed, something bright and hot and burning, and she didn't turn, didn't look, didn’t want to see. She didn't need to. She could feel the fire burning, haunting her, taunting her, challenging her, tempting her…
In the dark, she heard it. A song, sung without words, in no tongue that she spoke. It filled her ears, unearthly and haunting, filled with feeling that clenched her heart, undeniable.
In her dream, in the dark, her mouth opened seemingly against her will. She sung, and she didn't remember the words, only that they were right and fit held all of her being. She sang, and the fire sang with her, their words weaving together…
After those dreams, Jas woke with her throat sore and dry, on cool sheets, rested and well. Within her, the fire burned, a calm, steady flame, still and quiet.
In the bathroom, the candy lay untouched.