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[disc]Warning: The following fiction is rated R for violence. Reader's discretion is advised.
[/disc]

He tugged a little at his jacket and sat in the corner. He watched the door in utmost intensity. She'll come back to me in a little while, he promised himself. Then everything will be comfortable again.
He throught of Jake again and sighed. Yes, Jake. It all began with Jake. Back in the cubby hole in Mrs. Brander's class, the coats and bags made a perfect meeting place. And it made for nice kindling. Oh, God, where was she? He hated thinking about what happened to Jake. It was unfair of Jake to leave him like that. They were best friends. Jake shouldn't have been so selfish. Other people want to feel, too. I need the comfort, his thoughts began to scream.
Jake had no working pain receptors in the left side of his body because of an early head injury. Jake always wanted to see what he could feel. In the coat cubby, they tried many things: knives, scissors, and even the hot glue gun. One day, Jake brought matches.
He pulled at the arms of his jaket again. His skin was beginning to crawl. His facial muscles tightened to shut away the scene.
Jake wanted to light his sleeve on fire. He flicked the match on the side of the small matchbox. The air flooded with the scent of sulfer for a second, then the flame sprang to life. Oh, God. Oh, God! He remembered the look on Jake's face when he touched the match to his sleeve. He looked relieved and almost enlightented as he began to feel the flames that chewed slowly at his arm. The coats caught fire soon. The fire reached Jake's shoulders, and a flicker of alarm reached his eyes. Jake's hair and face began to blacken with soot when the flames nearly engulfed his shirt. His joy quicky turned to terror. And he began to scream. They all always screamed when it reached their faces. No!
He struggled against the straight jacket furiously and yelled for her. As the door opened noisily, a red-headed woman in a white uniform entered. "Jake!" he shouted. "Jake again! Help him--me! Help me, it's Jake again!"
He sighed deeply at the sight of a pressure syringe.

------
I am Jack's wasted life.
I'd like to thank the Academy...


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