Chapter 7

Screams filled my ears, and it wasn’t until my throat started to burn that I realized that the screams were mine. The other firefighters tried to get inside to get my dad out, but the structure had become so unsound that they couldn’t move the fallen debris without potentially making the situation worse for my father. So, the most they could do was continue to put out the remaining fires and wait for the incident response team.

The ground felt like it was being ripped out from under me and I lost my footing and practically collapsed. My breath was ripped from my lungs, and I struggled to breathe. Mom. I had to call Mom. She surely could do something, anything, to save him. With fumbling hands, I grabbed my phone from my pocket and called my mom, praying she answered quickly.

“Wynter?”

“MOM!”

“Oh my god, what?!” she replied, shocked by my outburst.

“HE’S TRAPPED! THE ROOF…AND HE’S STILL INSIDE!”

“Who!?”

“DAD!”

“Where are you?” she demanded.

“THE MUSEUM!”

After that, the phone disconnected, and I could only assume that she hung up to make her way here. One of the paramedics came and checked up on me and brought me to the ambulance. Sitting me next to Cameron, they started checking me out and they gave me an oxygen mask.

“Try to calm down,” the paramedic said, instructing me to take deep breaths.

“Your mom is on her way, right?” Cameron asked in a gentle voice.

I nodded in response, trying to focus on my breathing.

“She’ll know what to do, I’m sure. Let’s just wait for her, okay?” he encouraged me.

We sat in silence waiting and watching as the paramedics moved on to other people and the fire slowly dwindled down. My panic had dissipated to a numbness that washed over me. Cameron kept an arm around me trying to provide me some form of comfort. It wasn’t long before the IRT showed up and started searching the rubble for survivors. Well, survivor. Mom showed up soon after and demanded to know what was going on. Cameron explained that we were in the museum when it had caught fire and dad went to retrieve him when he was trapped inside. Except he didn’t come out when Cameron did.

The sunny day had turned into a dark night as we sat there waiting for any news. The embers of the flames of the past glowed brightly against the night blue sky. Watching people wade through the rumble I noticed a figure, almost blending into the darkness around it. My eyes took a second to adjust. The closer I looked the more my heart sped up. Dad? That was for sure my dad standing there, but why? Everyone was there searching for him, so why wasn’t he telling everyone he was okay? I was about to call out to him, and ask him if he was okay, but we were interrupted by the fire chief coming up to us holding a burned helmet in his hand.

My mom went to meet him halfway and we couldn’t hear the hushed conversation they shared. I watched as the chief shook his head solemnly and my mom let out a heartbreaking cry. My heart stopped as I realized what happened. I WAS seeing my father, just not physically. He was gone and no amount of hope could change the truth we were faced with. My father did not survive the Wichitan Museum fire. Everything that happened after that was one huge blur. I don’t know how much time had passed but the next thing I knew Cameron, Mom and I were back home in total silence.

How we got there was a mystery to me, but the silence that welcomed us sent a pang through my heart. The shadowed corners seemed darker, yet more welcoming than the brightly lit hallways and rooms. The darkness felt as though it was calling to me, saying that it too knew the grief that I was feeling, and it could provide me more comfort than anything else. Tears had long since stopped flowing, but I was far from feeling alright. At some point Cameron went home, and the next week was spent in a blurry haze, simply existing from one moment to the next. Mom didn’t make me go to school during those days. The only thing I accomplished was finishing my art project.

Every day without fail Cameron came by, if nothing else than to check on Mom and me. Mom was doing about as good as I was, and I didn’t want to leave her alone. But I had to go back to school eventually, that morning I got up early to shower. I didn’t bother trying to make myself look nice. I put on my veil, and as I finished tying it around my head, I looked at the bandanna that Cameron gave me that day. I couldn’t bring myself to wear it yet. Grabbing everything I needed I all but shoved it into my backpack and went downstairs to meet Cameron. Then like clockwork there came the knock on our door; he was here. Over the past few days, that sound at the same time every day has started to comfort me.

“Hey, Wynter.” he greeted me as I opened the door. “Are you coming to school?”

I just nodded, not feeling up to making conversation. We walked to school in silence. I could tell that Cameron was worried about me, but he respected my privacy. Walking into the school building, nothing seems to have changed. People still whispered as I passed, but I came to expect it. Throughout the day, Cameron made sure to check on me. By the time lunch came around I was more than ready to go home. Cameron had told me earlier that he might be late to lunch because he had to retake a test in the class before.

Needless to say, I sat alone at a table waiting and listening to the students around me chatter endlessly. Mostly they talked about normal everyday things, and I was grateful not to be their topic of conversation.

“Did you hear about the museum?” I heard someone say as they walked behind me.

“Yeah, I heard someone died.” I tensed at their words. Immediately I tried to keep my emotions under control “I think it was a fireman. Not to speak ill of the dead, but what kind of fireman dies in a fire?”

“Shut up,” I muttered. I could hear my blood rushing in my ears as I felt my anger rise.

“Excuse me?” one of them asked, walking to the side of my table.

“What did you say?” her friend scoffed, following closely behind.

Looking up I placed where I knew them from. They worked at the cafe we ate on that first day. That felt like so long ago now, I wish I could go back to that day. Everything was so much better; simpler.

“I said shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, clenching my teeth together as I tried to keep calm.

They looked at each other and scoffed. “A Morgan witch has no right speaking to us like that,” the blonde one sneered. If I remembered correctly her name was Emily. She was our waitress.

“A stupid waitress has no right disrespecting a hero,” I retorted.

As my anger started to transform into rage, the red jewel hanging around my neck started to feel hot. I didn’t think much of it, probably because my body temperature was rising the angrier I got.

They let out a laugh. “A hero?” Emily smiled.

Her friend placed her hands on the tabletop, leaning close to my face. “If he was such a hero, why couldn’t he save himself?” she asked sarcastically.

“SHUT UP!” I screamed, standing abruptly.

Without warning, the windows shattered, letting in what I could only describe as a windstorm. Everyone screamed and covered themselves as they ran to exit the cafeteria. Everyone except the girls in front of me. They tried to run but they couldn’t move. I wouldn’t let them. Their fear was evident in their eyes. They tried to look around for help, but we were the only ones left. Everyone else had already fled for safety. The wind whipped around us without a care, and it was so strong that the tables and chairs were strewn across the floor.

“What’s wrong?” I shouted over the wind. “You scared? Feeling trapped?”

“Let us go!” they demanded, looking at the door behind them.

My face twitched with anger. “Looking for someone to rush in and save you?” I felt the sting of fresh tears make their way to my eyes. “My dad would have no matter how awful you were. He would try his hardest to get you to safety.”

The two girls clung to each other, trying desperately to make their way to the door with no luck. I watched as I let my tears fall without resistance.

“But he’s not here!” I continued even though I doubt they were paying attention to anything I was saying. “He died that day in the museum! He died saving someone and ended up trapped inside. Everyone tried to save him, but it was too late.” I gasped for air as I sobbed.

“And here you stand with the audacity to mock his death, the audacity to think of him as anything but a fallen hero.”

The wind was growing stronger and stronger, and it was safe to say the girls were terrified as they continued trying to will their bodies to move, to free themselves from the hold I had on them. “How dare you.”

The necklace around my neck burned hot against my skin, feeling like a warning, but I didn’t care.

“WYNTER!” a new voice called out.

My eyes finally snapped away from the two girls in front of me. Immediately they took their chance to run. Walking slowly towards me against the currents of the wind was Cameron. “Wynter, what’s happening?” he asked as he got closer.

“They wouldn’t shut up,” I tried to explain. “They were disrespecting him. I couldn’t let them disrespect him.”

Cameron finally reached me and without a word he pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around me a tight comforting embrace. The second Cameron got to me, the necklace went back to its normal temperature and all the anger I was feeling melted away. Instead, I clutched onto him as I sobbed. “He’s a hero, he should be respected,” I whispered into his chest. The wind died down soon after leaving the cafeteria a disaster.

“It’s okay, I got you,” he hushed.

“I don’t know what came over me. I was just so angry that I—” I tried explaining by bringing my face out from his chest.

Gently he grasped my face, making me look at him. “Hey,” he said quietly. “It’s okay. I’m here, you’re safe.”

I squeezed him tighter while he led me out of the cafeteria, being careful to avoid the broken glass and other miscellaneous obstacles. Everyone had huddled together in the hallway, looking at me as though I was a monster. To them I probably was.

“Did you see what she did?” Emily accused, pointing a single manicured nail at me. “There’s no denying it now, she’s a witch.”

“What are you talking about, Emily?” Cameron scoffed.

“She used her witch powers to cause all that wind and trap Sara and I in there.”

“Did She? Cause it looked to me like you all were too scared to move.” He rebutted.

“Say whatever you want Cameron, you can’t explain away that wind.”

“Freak weather happens everywhere. You can’t actually believe that Wynter had anything to do with that,” Cameron responded, tightening his hand on me ever so slightly.

“Yeah, Emily. I mean, everyone knows witches aren’t real,” someone from the crowd said.

After the teachers made sure everyone was okay and unharmed, they sectioned off the cafeteria and sent everyone to their next classes, while they called parents. The reset of the day went by quickly, in history no one, not even the teacher looked at me, same for the rest of my classes. Until I walked into art, with my backpack hanging loosely on my shoulder.

“Wynter, so good to have you back. I heard about your father, and I am truly sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Miss Zeric,” I said quietly, before going to sit at my table.

Shortly after Cameron joined me and everyone else filed in alongside him. Once the bell rang, Miss Zeric made her way to the front of the class.

“Okay, I think we have all had enough time to finish the charcoal pieces. I will come around to each table and collect them.”

People around the room murmured and started to take out their projects, whether they were finished or not. Cameron and I followed suit and for the first time I was able to see what he had done for his project. On his piece of paper was what looked to be an estate not unlike my family’s.

“What did you draw?” I questioned, with curiosity.

“Ah, my family’s house. It’s been here since the beginning of Witchitan.”

“It looks good,” I said.

He smiled and made a comment about how I don’t have anything to reference. “Did you figure out what you would draw?” He asked, keeping his tone gentle and A little awkward as he tried not to upset me.

“I did,” I answered, pulling out my piece.

Cameron opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by Miss Zeric coming up to us.

“My, what beautiful art we have here. How about you two explain how your subject relates to the history of our town.”

Cameron went first, explaining the history behind his drawing. And when It came to my turn, I felt him place a hand on my shoulder and give it a reassuring squeeze.

“And what or rather who did you draw Wynter?”

“Daniel Alexander Morgan,” I announced, while presenting it to her.

“I’m afraid I don’t recognize the name. Could you elaborate on his historical significance?”

“This man here was a loving husband and father. And more than that he was a hero. On the day the museum burned Dan Morgan was one of the many brave firefighters that came. While the others thought everyone had made it out, he knew someone was still inside, and without a second thought he rushed inside to save them. His life was lost that day and he will go down in history as the hero of that day.”

Nobody dared question my explanation and we spent the rest of art class with ease.