Soul Survivor: Building Hope From Hell

The air around me reeked of gasoline, a sharp tang that somehow mixed with the familiar scent of ancient leather from my family' s priceless library. My phone buzzed, Maria's name flashing on the screen, but I ignored it, focused on the tiny, dancing flame of the lighter in my hand.

Then came her text: "Jocelyn, what the HELL are you doing?! The staff is freaking out! They said you have gasoline! Are you insane? I'm calling the police to have you committed!"

Insane. That' s what they' d label me. A cold smile touched my lips. Let them. They had no idea what was coming.