Page 1 of Watch Me Burn
PROLOGUE
Children’s high-pitched laughter rang out across the park as they darted about, their joy amplified by the warm sunlight bathing the trees and grass. A gentle breeze carrying the delicate scent of blooming flowers caressed the air.
A young boy, Ethan, nudged a soccer ball toward a slightly smaller girl, Anna.
“Give it a go, Anna,” he urged, his brown eyes sparkling like gemstones in the sunlight. Despite his tragic upbringing, he was a charismatic child—both confident and kind-hearted.
“I can’t,” Anna mumbled. “I’m not as strong as you.”
“Yes, you are!” Ethan insisted with a smile.
As the ball rolled to a halt at her feet, Anna stared at it. Her face creased in a frown, reflecting her discouragement.
“But I can’t kick it as high as you can,” she protested. “I’m only a girl.”
Ethan was about to respond when the sharp laughter of a group of children snagged his attention. They had assembled near a tree, engrossed with a small bird at their feet.
“Poke it again!” a boy hooted, hopping with anticipatory delight.
Ethan’s eyes narrowed as he watched the bird struggle to escape. Its wing stuck out at an unnatural angle, but the children mercilessly prodded it back with their sticks.
“Try to hit its head again!” a little girl squealed, laughing.
Without a second’s delay, Ethan sprinted toward them.
“Ethan!” Anna called, chasing after him. “Wait!”
But Ethan had already infiltrated the group. He wrenched the stick from the tallest boy, who easily dwarfed him by a full head.
“Stop it!” Ethan demanded. His command sent ripples of confusion through the group. Some children even abandoned their sticks, scattering as if the arrival of their angry parents was imminent.
Just as Anna arrived, the tall boy seized Ethan’s shirt, hurling him onto the grass beside the bird.
“You’re an idiot, just like your junkie parents,” the boy growled, launching a flurry of punches at Ethan.
Reacting instinctively, Anna sprang onto the boy’s lower leg, biting down as fiercely as a cornered raccoon. The boy let out a screech as his fist pounded onto Anna’s head, but she clung on stubbornly. Her thoughts revolved around Ethan; if she released her hold, the boy might use the stick to hurt him.
“What’s going on over there?” a voice bellowed from a distance. An adult man in his forties, sporting sweatpants and a T-shirt with a typical “dad bod,” was approaching.
Anna finally released her bite and looked up at Ethan, who was holding the boy’s wrists to prevent him from attacking her. As soon as the boy spotted the man, he squirmed out of Ethan’s grip and bolted, followed by the remaining children who had stayed to watch the fight.
The dad, upon seeing the scattering children, halted midstride. He cast a bemused look toward their scattering figures, shook his head, and then ambled back to the swing set, where his own children begged for higher pushes.
“Are you hurt?” Ethan asked, his fingers lightly sifting through Anna’s hair as if expecting to find an open wound. She shook her head.
“I’m fine. But the bird . . .”
Her hand pointed toward the little red robin that was trying futilely to take flight.
“Its wing is broken,” Ethan said, gently lifting the bird while making soothing sounds. He cradled it against his chest as if he were a mother bird.
“It’s okay. I’ll help you,” he whispered tenderly. Miraculously, the bird seemed to trust him and began to calm.
“Let’s take it to my grandmother’s place. She’ll know what to do,” Ethan said.
Ethan had been living with his grandmother since his mother overdosed and his father was incarcerated for drug trafficking. Anna nodded in agreement, her hand lightly touching Ethan’s arm as they embarked on their journey to his grandmother’s house, just a few blocks away from her own home in a peaceful small town near Boston.
Suddenly, Ethan broke the silence, his grin spreading from ear to ear.
