Nihilistic Rage: Rekindled Flames

A deep hot gasp rakes through Silas’s freezing body. Cold and partially clammy he manages to sit up and look around. Before he even has a chance to look around and assess what the hell just happened, the screaming of police sirens pierces through his skull. Instinct kicks in and he finds himself sprinting away before his head catches up to his legs. Ducking into an abandoned warehouse he stumbles to the floor, his body weak and aching. There is when he finds three holes in his shirt. Three holes covered in blood where bullet wounds should have been. His fingers touch the still-damp holes now, trying desperately to remember what happened. The memories flash by too quickly for him to grasp onto anything that explains how they got there. But the overwhelming amounts of red and heat in his vision is a glaring red flag as to what was wrong with him. As he stands he’s wobbly, like a baby dear just freshly born. And in a sense, he was. Stumbling to a bunch of broken glass he glares at his own reflection, a deep red iris greeting him as he stares back at what he once was. A flash of memory passes his brain. Fire, a figure, and a breath of life. A flame yet again ignited. It hits him all at once then. An overwhelming heat flushes through his body as he lets out a scream. Fire bursts from his body and overwhelms him. Viciously he tries to pat himself out, but to no avail. What was weird once he finally calmed down was the fact that it didn’t hurt. Staring down at his reflection once more he looks to himself. Both irises are a deep red now as he burns. Calmly he focuses on the heat, it slowly dissipates from his entire body just to his hands. The fires of Hell were now at his grasp and he had no idea how he’d gotten them.