Through the Fire by Donna Hill

finger.
    “For falling apart like this. I didn’t want you to see me like that.” She turned her head away, ashamed now of her blatant display of weakness.
    “Like what, Rae? Open, honest with me, yourself? Admitting things out loud that you’d only whisper alone in the dark? I know how hard that can be.”
    She got up and moved away from him, away from his prying eyes, away from the truth that rang like a church bell at high noon.
    Suddenly he saw himself through her eyes, through the eyes of those who had been in his life. His bruised inner self mirrored in her words, her admission. How hard he’d worked to keep his front intact. Seamless. The role, the image was all important at the expense of everything. The words like hot lava boiled in his throat, rising to the surface unstoppable now that the earth had moved, shifted beneath hisfeet, unsettling everything in his world. What he’d feared for so long was about to happen, the splintering of his shield, the exposing of his vulnerable, private self.
    “It…was my fault,” he began in the halting words of a child who’d just learned to speak. “From…the beginning…my mom…my sister…Nikita. All my fault.”
    She turned to him, alarmed now by the carnal agony of his tone. She remained as still as a portrait—waiting. How could she help him?
    He sat down heavily, as the images of his life passed before his eyes like a movie in slow motion, and the powder keg of emotions that he’d hidden from formed an explosive knot in his chest waiting for the match to ignite it. The rising to the surface of things long left unsaid, left unrecognized, took the wind out of him and caused him to weaken before her. How would she view him now? What woman wanted some guy with a lot of emotional baggage? He now felt the first pangs of guilt, and maybe shame, but if she was who she said she was, it wouldn’t matter. None of it would.
    Cautiously, Rae approached, seeing thetightrope upon which she walked and the bottomless canyon beneath her feet should she misstep, lose her balance.
    “Say it, Quinn,” she gently whispered. “Say the words.” Now it was she who needed to hear the confession, to assuage her own pangs of guilt, to free herself, absolve herself.
    “I…I…I…” He was struggling to find the right words for his feelings. The strain of his inner battle showed on his pinched face, in his frightened eyes.
    She came up behind him, carefully, and gently took his hand. “I know it’s hard,” she whispered, pushing, needing him to cross the line, to take her with him. “Very hard. But if you’re the man I believe you are, you’ll confront this…if you ever want to be free. Otherwise, you’ll be locked inside that place in your head and heart forever.”
    “Why is all of this so important to you?” he snapped, seeking to steady himself by putting her off balance. “What kind of pleasure are you getting from watching me go through this?”
    She was now beside him, looking down at him. “I’m not your enemy. Your enemy is someone else—you. And you can choose tofight it or let it beat you. And I can’t imagine you letting anything beat you. Tell me if I’m wrong,” she challenged. Her heart pounded as she waited to see if he would pick up the gauntlet she’d thrown.
    His hands went to his cheeks as he hunched over, staring at the floor. He knew she wasn’t wrong, maybe too right. But could he trust her, trust her enough to let go, take the hand that she offered him? “…the Lord sees fit to put folks in our way to help us…if you let them.” The words of Mrs. Finch whispered in his ear. If you let them.
    His jaw clenched as if trying to seal the words inside his mouth, and then without warning they poured from him, like welcome rain. “My mother…she left me, left us…and I was responsible for my sister. I…I…was all she had, the only person between her and the world. I was responsible for her and I failed her.”
    “How did you fail