Working Fire

by Emily Bleeker

It hurt badly enough when someone left your life because of an unexpected accident. It hurt in a whole new way when the person you loved left you because you weren’t good enough.

She was doing that thing where she took out her frustrations about something else in her life on the closest victim. Steve was well versed in this weakness, but Caleb . . . poor Caleb had no idea. She used to be more easygoing, slower to be on the defensive, with a soft place for the people she loved; but right now she felt like every time she turned around, she was doing something else wrong, and it was easier to push people away than risk letting them see how messed up she really was.

This was one of those life moments. The ones that you knew just before they happened would change everything.

that one fail doesn’t make the person a failure.

The only thing harder than being pressured to do something you didn’t want to do was being pressured to do something you desperately wanted to do but couldn’t.

the old sparkle was there, the one that said I love you with no words.

So her father started a code for good-byes. One finger meant I love you. Two fingers meant I love you too.

So sweet <3

Amelia used to think she held back because of respect, but lately she realized it was something else—fear. He’d never hurt her, not physically, but she never felt good enough, and the chains of his judgment and anger were enough to keep her in line.

She wished that box would stay closed and stop leaking out all her worries. It used to work so well, but now it seemed like that mental container was overflowing and nothing she could do would keep the anger and frustration down for very long.

Sometimes in nature, fire caused pinecones to open and prairies to bloom. Sometimes it cleared out old dead trees to make way for new life. Sometimes fire wasn’t about destruction—sometimes it was about renewal. Sometimes fire was necessary.