Born to Fly

Walking Through Fire - ✔

The first thing that registers is the taste of blood and dirt on my lips. Next is the pain. Each breath forced out of my lungs feels similar to ash rising from a hearth.

I make myself open my eyes. In every direction I look, there is nothing but rubble and destruction and body parts and holy shit. I'm buried beneath a fallen warehouse. I'm cocooned into a small space in the building.

"Help! Someone help me!"

No answer.

"Help me!"

I try to kick myself free, but my left foot is trapped under a concrete slab. I struggle against the rock. The more I move, the more crowded my cocoon becomes. Tears streak down my dirt-covered face.

There's a tiny gap in the rocks far above me. I outstretch my hand to it but it must be miles away.

I remember talking to Oswald and Butch. Falcone said he needed me at a different warehouse. That's where my memory stops. Where is Victor? Isn't he supposed to be protecting me? Is he somewhere down here, too?

"Victor?" I ask the darkness. "Zsasz? Is anyone down here?"

A searing pain scorches up my shoulder. Terrified, I assess the damage done to me. I've got a sprained ankle, broken toes, perhaps a broken foot. There's massive bruises all along my calves and torso. Thank goodness it's nothing worse than that. My arm, however, is lodged between two beams. One of which is protruding through my forearm. If I pull it out, I could bleed to death before I'm found, if I'm ever found.

I tell myself to just breathe. Jim is looking for me. He will find me. Maybe Falcone's noticed my absence. Maybe he's looking for me, too. Everytime I force myself onto a new subject, the severity of the current situation returns to the forefront of my mind.

I stare up at the single beam of sunlight piercing through the ash and concrete.

"Help me!" I shout from the bottom of my lungs.

As the beam of light slowly turns sunset red, claustrophobia sets in. I am trapped in my own coffin. My air will run out eventually, and someday my body might be found.

I scream again and again and again.

Nothing.

How do I allow myself to come to peace with this fate? I still have so much to do. I have to make things right with Jim. I need to save Butch. Goosebumps rise on my arms. An unknown feeling swells in my chest. It's the same feeling I get when I look at— I suppose if I am never to escape this prison, I can admit it to myself. This secret can be buried with me.

My shoulders shake uncontrollably. The crumpled warehouse fills with echoes of my sobs.

It's the same feeling I get when I look at Oswald. It's the feeling of when he says my name and how unique it sounds. It's the reassurance I get when I walk into the club to see him and Butch at the bar.

And I'll never see him again.

Moonlight replaces the sun. The freezing temperatures of the night filter in through the gaps, leaving me shivering. Exhaustion creeps up on me, and I fall asleep.

When I wake up again, daylight has returned. I am only a little warmer than I was. My thoughts drift far away from me, perhaps as some coping tactic. Daydreams keep me company.

Yet every time I open my eyes, I'm reminded that I'm scared and alone. I don't want to die by myself.

My recent daydreams have been of being found. Light pours onto my face, warming my body from the outside in. Weight is lifted from my chest and I'm able to breathe clearly again. My fingertips bleed from punching and pushing against the concrete coffin.