"If I'm bad at being a hero, does that make me the villain? It's not like there are checks and balances for heroics. I never wanted these powers, and I sure as hell don't deserve them."

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The door beside me is cracked open only a few inches. The blistered doorframe, marred with scorch marks, feels like it towers fifteen feet over me. The darkness creeps around the doorway and stretches out towards me. My vision blurs. I stand, bracing myself against the wall. My knees shake just holding my body up.

There's no way in hell I'm going in that room. There are two other rooms adjacent to it. The middle room looks to be a small bathroom. The room at the end of the hall must be the boy's bedroom that faces the street. Which means the room beside me must be the master bedroom.

I push my body from the wall and stumble down the hallway. My muscles are tired and weak. The floor feels like thick tar with every labored step. Is this hallway a hundred feet long? Finally, my hands grip the doorframe and I vault myself into the room.

I press my fingers against my forehead and blink slowly. I shudder, as if to fling off the uneasiness, and slowly feel my energy return. It's as I thought. This is the boy's room. Half of the room is ravaged with the same black disease that infects the rest of the house. A rocking horse is warped and boiled. Toys on the ground are melted into little mounds of ooze. Debris from the ceiling is scattered around the room like gray confetti.

"Hel-" My throat suddenly catches and tightens. I break into a fit of coughing and hacking. Something bulges in my throat and skulks into the back of my mouth. I spit it up onto the floor. Black. My spit is black, filled with ash. The longer I stay in this house, the less I believe I'm going to make it out.

"Hello?" I say, now with a bit more urgency. I get no reply. I scout around the room a bit more. There's clothing tossed in a pile in front of the closet. The closet door is wide open and a small blackened suitcase is melted beside it. What were you packing for?

"Hello?" I try again. "Chiquito?" I close the closet door. A dressing mirror hangs on the other side of it. My reflection is a portrait of my emotional state. My messy hair is breaking free from the hair tie, springing in every direction. My black hoodie is covered in ash and dirt. The golden flakes in my eyes stand out against my dark ash-covered face. My backdrop, a scorched room from a childhood I never had. Then, I notice an additional face in this portrait.

In the reflection I spot a small face peaking out from under the bed. My heart leaps into my throat, and my muscles stiffen.

"Hey chiquito," I breathe. "I'm just here to help."

Fear grips my body. Paranoia invades my mind, and every shadow now feels like a monster waiting to pounce. This isn't my fear.

"I know you're scared," I say. I slowly raise my hands and begin to turn away from the mirror. I shift my eyes toward the bed and spot the little face looking up at me.

"The dragon will get you," his tiny voice whispers in the back of my skull. He must think the house is still burning.

"It's okay, the fire is gone. You can come out now."

"The fire is a lie," he mutters.

"Th—" I blink. What a weird statement. "That's right. The fire is a lie." I slowly step toward the bed and kneel, my hands outstretched to show I mean no harm.

His little face recoils under the bed. "The dragon got mommy."

I notice the toy sword beside the bed. Maybe his imagination is the only thing he can understand right now. He probably doesn't even realize he's dead.

"Are you—" I clear my throat, attempting to tap into my best cliché heroic voice. "Are you the queen's royal knight?" I ask, puffing my chest out. Those two empty eyes return from the darkness. "Your reinforcements have arrived," I say with a smile. "I've come to help you vanquish the dragon and return you to your queen."

"I'm scared," he whispers from beside me. I flinch. The boy suddenly stands beside me now, as if he had always been there. His skin is a pale blue and his eyes are dark and sunken in, but he looks completely real. A small river of blood stains his forehead.

"It's okay," I reply. I stand back up and hold my hand out. "We'll do it together."

I feel his ice cold fingers wrap around my hand. His skin feels soft and delicate, like a real physical hand. He turns to face the door and bile starts to creep into my throat. The back of his skull drips blood down his back, staining his shirt. There is a hole in this boy's head.

I quickly look away, my eyes wide with hatred, fear, disgust, anguish. What the fuck happened here?

"Don't be scared," his haunting voice echoes between my ears. "I'll protect you."

I breathe. "Okay. Let's go."

We reach the doorway and I peer around the corner. The hallway is much shorter than I remember. My senses seem much more reliable now. The blackened hallway is dark and wraps around to the stairs. However, there is one crucial update. The master bedroom door is now wide open.

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"You ready?" I offer. "Stay beside me."

We carefully step down the hall, the wood creaking with every shift of my weight. I try not to look into the dark bedroom, but I keep glancing into it, praying that nothing is staring back. My heart thumps in my chest. That persistent uneasiness I feel through the house, its center is in this room. I just need to get past it.

Tap.

That damned dripping. My eyes peer into the bedroom. I can't help it. The dripping is coming from inside the room.

Tap.

I freeze in front of the doorway. In the darkness, I make out the shape of a bed. A woman lays across it, her head hanging over the edge. Her eyes, filled with shock, stare blankly past me. Her neck is bruised and black. The top of her head is bored open, a hole so wide it cracks her head like an egg. Blood drips from her skull, filling a pool of dark crimson on the wood panel floor.

TAP.

I take a sharp breath and turn away from the room, but as I turn around a new face stands before me. A man's rotten hate-filled eyes glare at me. His skin is boiled and black.

Heat sears my skin as the house rages with crimson flames. A blazing fire consumes the entire house, crawling up the walls and flooding my vision with bright white heat. The cracking, snapping, biting flames surround me.

I shriek and step backward into the bedroom. His charred body steps closer. The kid looks at me with desperation from behind him.

"You," I stammer. "Killed them."

He approaches closer, releasing a deep growl. Flaming debris falls from the ceiling like snow.

"They wanted to leave, but you—" I look at the boy as my back presses against the dresser at the end of the room. "You're the dragon." My voice shudders, as my mind races. The boy didn't die in the fire. He was shot outside first. "The fire was a lie."

He releases a decrepit breath through his teeth. Then, with a sudden snarl he leaps toward me. I quickly duck past him, and bolt back to the boy. I grab his hand and yank him toward the stairs. I pause for a moment as the flames climb. It must be an illusion. It has to be, but the heat—the pain feels undoubtedly real. I take one step and I feel something coarse violently grab my arm.

The man's bony fingers clamp around my arm, digging into my skin. "YOU CANNOT LEAVE!" He roars through his broken jaw.

"Let go of me!" I scream, and rip my arm from his grasp. My weight shifts back toward the stairs and my balance slips. I turn to grab the railing and brace myself, but it disintegrates under my hand. Time seems to slow for a moment as the boy looks at me in horror. The entire railing buckles under my weight.

SSSNAP!

The railing gives out. My ankle twists unnaturally and my body falls from the top of the stairs. My stomach leaps into my throat as I plummet through the air. My hands flail, reaching for anything, but find nothing.

My back slams onto the pile of scorched debris on the ground. Searing pain screams across my body. My head swells with agony. I gasp for oxygen. My lungs desperate to regain the air that evacuated my body. My vision is blurred. I can barely piece together my surroundings.

Then, his face, his wretched face hovers over me. He produces a toothy grin as his bony fingers wrap around my neck. An immense weight pushes down on my chest. I grab his arms and push, pull, and twist them, but he only squeezes harder. I need to breathe. I NEED to breathe. Then, I remember the powers I used on the door.

I close my eyes and attempt to find the same mindset that unleashed my powers. The fog. Think about the fog. I extend my palms, but nothing happens. It's not working. I slam my fist into his chest. His ribs snap and I feel my hand enter his slimy body. He fucking grins at me. I take my hands and scratch, scrape, pull, and gouge at his face. He growls and pushes harder into my neck.

I'm going to die. Tears squeeze from my eyes. Darkness forms around my vision. My lungs are on fire, screaming for air. I desperately look around for something—anything. I find the boy's face floating towards me. His cold fingers wrap around my hand.

"Don't be scared." His little voice pierces through my forehead.

Suddenly, I feel his presence vibrate through my body. I close my eyes. His desperation, his fear, and his anger floods my memories. I remember when his father first hit his mom. I remember his mother packing his clothing, he pleaded her not to. He didn't understand. I remember his father taking him out back.

Something foreign crawls through my body. It worms its way up my arm and hits every nerve on the way up. Panic floods my senses and I scream. I wail. I don't know if any sound comes out, but I explode with fear.

A wave of heat fills my skin. White flames erupt from my body with a deafening boom. The weight is suddenly lifted from my neck and I watch the scorched face disintegrate into a fine black mist. The persistent roar of the flames abruptly suffocates into silence, as if it was never there.

The white energy slams into every wall in the house, then vanishes. The windows shatter. Debris falls from the ceiling and the house shudders. I hack and cough, clutching my throat. I twist my body to get away, to get anywhere but here.

My hands clamber against the wall to hoist my body up. I stand, my arms extended out to defend myself from his next attack. I search the foyer for him, but I don't see him.

My vision clears. The flames are gone, the man is gone, and the boy is nowhere to be seen. The stairs are splintered and the railing hangs upside down. Even the energy, the heavy oppressive energy, is gone. What just happened?

I stumble down the hall toward the kitchen, and look out the back window. The portal is gone. What have I done? I search around the house for any remnant of the boy, unsure if he was ever there to begin with. No. He was here. Did I kill him?

Vomit begins to boil in my stomach. I race back down the hall to the guest bathroom. I throw my face into the dusty yellow sink, but I swallow it back down and take a deep breath. You're fine. Just shock.

I look up at the mirror above the sink. My eyes are black. I stumble back in horror. The whites of my eyes are a dark glossy oil. Webs of black veins spread from my eyes and slither down my cheek bones.

I squeeze my eyes shut and rub my face, but the vision doesn't pass. Slowly, the black webs retract and my eyes return to their natural brown. However, something about them feels unfamiliar. The golden flakes. Are there more of them now? No. It's just shock. I'm clearly seeing things.

I shake my head, as if to shake away the crazy. I walk back to the rear entrance, unlock it and step out. I feel like I just woke up from a dream. I know what I saw and felt. My back is killing me and my clothing is drenched in sweat, but the house looks completely normal.

I step out through the crack in the fence, and into Thicket grove. Something catches my eye. There's a girl standing far in the distance. Her face looks familiar, but I can't quite place it.

"Beware the cannibal."