Writing Prompt Wednesday #120

For this week, let's do something a little different: Write about two characters who are pyromaniacs. Are they in cahoots? Are they rivals? Do they live in the same place or discover each other online? Let your imagination go wild! https://www.writersdigest.com/be-inspired/sparks-fly

    It burns. Everything burns. The world around me, everything I’ve ever built, turns to ashes all around me. Slowly, everything falls apart.
    I should have expected this outcome, really. Everyone always warned me. “You can’t fight fire with fire.” But how could I do anything different? I’d been raised with flames in my blood, an inferno in my head. Some people were taught with rain on their lips and rivers in their words. They build, they nourish, they water the ground for more life to grow from their bones. But when you’re only taught how to destroy—how to burn the earth to ashes around you—you don’t know anything different. Water beats fire, afterall. The only thing that can beat damage is creation. More damage doesn’t stop it, it only fuels the flames higher.
    I hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. I thought I knew the feeling of getting burned. No one told me of this pain. How it would pale in comparison to the tiny scratches and blisters I’d sustained before. No amount of water or ice or cold could take the burning heat from my body. Behind the flames came scarred, burning flesh. I couldn’t care. None of the pain was any worse than the betrayal of it all.
    She told me that she could be trusted. She told me that she’d take care of me—that she’d take care of us. Even though everyone warned me about her, I followed her into the flames. I trusted that she’d lead me safely through the smoke. She was a lifeline, pulling me through a disaster that she had crafted. And I thanked her. I shudder at the fact now, but nothing could stop my past actions. Hell, nobody else could. When there was fire all around you, you couldn’t exactly see the red flags. Most of them had been burned to the ground.
    I sighed. Everyone had told me not to play with fire. But I had kissed her beautiful face, laughing as the heat caressed my skin, as the smoke caught in my throat. I reveled in the warmth of it as she burned me alive.
    I wish I had listened.