Burned

Prologue

September 2007

He thinks it’s dark all around him, but he can’t be sure. He can’t seem to open his eyes. Is the ground cold? Or wet?

He thinks it might be raining. Something touches his face. Early snow? The first snow?

Jonas loves the snow.

Jonas.

Shrivelled carrots in snowmen’s faces, clumps of grass and earth. No, not now. Frosty the Snowman, it can’t be you. Can it?

He tries to lift his right arm, but it won’t move. Hands. Does he still have them? His thumb twitches.

Or, at least, he thinks it does.

His skin is crisp and delicate like snowflakes. Flames everywhere. So hot. His face slides down like batter on a sizzling frying pan.

Jonas loves pancakes.

Jonas.

The ground is shaking. Voices. Silence. Wonderful silence. Protect me, please. You, who are watching me.

It’ll be all right. Don’t be scared. I’ll take care of you.

The laughter fades. He is out of breath. Hold my hand, hold it tight.

But where are you?

There. There you are. We were here. You and I.

Jonas loves that there is a ‘you and I’.

Jonas.

Horizons. Blizzard rain on an infinite blue surface. A plop breaks the surface, line and bait sink.

Cold wood beneath his feet. His eyes are still stuck together.

It’ll be all right. Don’t be scared. I’ll take care of you.

He feels the balcony under his feet. He has a firm foothold.

Or so he thinks.

Empty hands. Where are you? Rewind, please — please rewind.

A wall of darkness. Everything is reduced to darkness. Siren sounds approach.

He manages to open one eye. It’s not snow. It’s not rain. There is only darkness.

He has never seen darkness before. Never really seen it, never seen what the darkness can conceal.

But he sees it now.

Jonas was scared of the dark.

He loves Jonas.

Jonas.