He was a pyromaniac, that’s for sure. A pyro among pyros.

“Hatred is a fire that can never be extinguished,” she said when she stopped in front of an iron gate. She’d never felt so able to relate to that sentence, the password, as she did when the gate began to squeak open ever so slowly. She tapped her pained foot impatiently as it slowly got to where she could walk through it. The gravel put her feet in excrutiating pain, but she was able to hide it. She’d practiced long enough, she ought to be able to. Over the years, she’d grown herself a heart of ice and a clever smile. Too much heartbreak, and the heart just…. freezes. She stopped in front of a man with an icy stare.

“You’re late.”

“Am I?” She pointed at the old clock on the wall. She was early. She loved to make him think she was late. Permission to start college, and she had learned psychology. She could fiddle with the human – and otherwise – mind. She only did it from time to time so that he didn’t get on her tail.