My Hand, My Song, My Freedom

The smell hit me first, thick, choking smoke, then Lila' s terrified scream ripped through the festival noise.

Jax, my fiancé, was a blur beside me, his face tight with a desperate need to save her.

He started towards The Swamp Shack, towards the hungry flames devouring the old wooden walls.

My body wanted to lunge, to grab his arm, to scream, "No, Jax, don't!"

But this time, I didn't.

Because I remembered.

I remembered the searing pain as burning wood crashed down, crushing my left hand, destroying my music, obliterating my future, in another life.