My day was ruined before it had hardly started. I was in my disgusting little apartment minding my own miserable business when two clowns burst through my wall and started fighting on my unfinished cement floor. The larger of the two is wearing a ridiculous looking bird mask that looked as though it has been crafted by a seven-year-old, and the other looks more like a cabbage than a man. The cabbage is losing.

“This complex must not be up to code if a puny weed like you could bust through its walls,” The bird mask remarks. 

Cabbage man retorts, “We’re a lot denser than you might expect.” 

“Obviously- hey, do you smell something burning?”

“I don’t have a nose.”

The two then turn around and notice me standing in the rubble, trying my best not bolt over and grab them both by throat and hurl them out the new window they had just created. I’m not exactly wearing my Sunday best. In fact, I’m hardly wearing anything at all. I have this condition, you see. It causes me to burst into flames at inconvenient times. When I’m emotional, to be precise. I’m usually better at putting a lid on it and keeping it to myself, but this wasn’t a scene that I could just block out. I was trying to have breakfast and now my instant ramen is full of airborne drywall dust.

I don’t have as much control when I’m on fire like this, and before I know it, I’m grasping the cabbage man’s face. My dark flames consume him for a moment before I force myself to drop him and turn to the man with the hideous mask. The cabbage I didn’t feel much sorrow for, but I felt bad for the human as I reach a hand out towards him.

“Hey! Back off buddy. My daughter made this mask. I’m not going to let you burn it!”

I lower my hand. His voice had knocked me out of my trance. Now I feel bad for my previous negative thoughts towards his mask. I should’ve realized something that looked like it was made by a seven-year-old was most likely made by one.

After noting my self control, the man continues, “Anyway, thanks for dealing with that guy.  I hope they figure out who keeps making those things. I’m tired of being sent to deal with them. They don’t really line up with my specialties. You, though- I didn’t know was someone like you in the A.C.H.A.! Or… are you not a member?”

I continue to stare at him blankly.

“How did you even get here… Oh, you live here, don’t you?” The man continues.

Oh, that’s not good. I don’t need a member of the A.C.H.A. Knowing my location! I snarl at him. I didn’t really mean to, but he was a threat. A threat that I couldn’t deal with. I’m not going to let myself hurt him. Not today. I’m not giving into the monster. I’d try to shut it off now, but the black flames engulfing my body are the only thing keeping my identity a secret.

The man jumps back at my aggression, eying me nervously.

“So… no? Ah… You can turn that fire off, can’t you?”

“Listen here, you.” I hiss at him, stepping forward. “You will not speak of me to the A.C.H.A. is that clear?”

“What—?”

“You tell the A.C.H.A. about me, you’re dead!”

“Whoa, okay.” The man backs away further, waving his hands. “I-I won’t tell a soul.”

It seemed intimidation was the way to go. I fold my arms and continue to stare at him.

“Well? Go!” I encourage him.

The man stumbles backward again, then turns to leap out the newly fashioned window of my apartment.

I remain standing for a moment, before collapsing on the ground. That’s the irony about my monster. It hurts to hide it, but it hurts just as much to let it out. I used to be able to keep the monster out for much longer when I was younger. But now, nine years later, it saps all my energy after only a short period of time. At least I’ve gotten better at hiding it.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s slowly wasting me away, pulling the meat off my bones bit by bit. I’d rather blame the monster’s hunger than the lack of my own for my skinny wrists. People, usually Mamá, say I don’t eat enough. They could be right, but my hunger is easily satisfied. I am quite small and hardly exert myself, so it makes sense to me that I’d be less hungry.

I lay on the floor, breathing heavily. I’m so tired. I don’t know what time it is. Would it really hurt if I just closed my eyes for a moment? It’s dark outside. My alarm will wake me up.

My alarm did not wake me up. It was crushed in the rubble. I was instead awoken by a knock at my door. I come to the realization that I’m wearing nothing but my fireproof boxers and hastily pull myself to my feet to dig around my room for a shirt before opening the door.

“Hello?” I ask wearily.

Outside is… the building manager. I think. I can’t be bothered to care. He’s asking about damage and peaking through the door over my head.

“What time is it?” I ask him.

“It’s around 10:00 A.M. Now will you please let me—”

I dash away from the door, leaving it wide open for the manager. I quickly pull on some long black pants and my shoes and snatch my backpack on the way out the door.

“Hey, wait! I need you to-” The managers words are lost on me as I dash down the hallway to the stairwell. I’m late for work. Not good.

I make it to the subway, but the next train won’t arrive for another ten minutes.

Cálmate. Calm down. It’s just one day. Not the end of the world. 

I wish I could hide the back of my neck and ears. I don’t need the darkness spreading across them visible to the common eye. It’s a sign that I’m near my ignition point, which means I’m being too emotional. I turn my back to the scummy subway wall and close my eyes. This would be more effective if I could close my ears as well, I hate the noise of crowds, but I feel my temperature dropping.

A sudden commotion in front of the tracks convinces me to take a peek.

There’s a shirtless guy with a traffic cone on his head… Not the weirdest thing I’ve seen in this city I’ll admit, but certainly in the top ten. Is he some kind of supervillain with a terrible theme? More likely a drunk guy who thinks he is.

The man jumps onto the tracks. Some people scream.

“I am Conehead!” I hear him cry out over the crowd. “I am here to stop this train!” The man blathers on about destiny and saving the world from the horrors of mimic trains, but I couldn’t care less and I try to tune out all the noise. 

I’d always thought the subway would be safer than traveling above ground, where hero-villain fights could take place, but it looks like the subway isn't safe from idiots. 

He doesn’t appear to be leaving any time soon and the noise of the crowd grows. I cover my ears and shut my eyes, trying to calm down. I feel the tingling of my blackened skin creeping up the sides of my face.

No, no, no. I’ve faced worse than this. This isn’t stressful. All I have to do is wait and…

The train will arrive soon. The insane man could die.

Why do I care? …

He needs help. I look through the crowd. No one is making a move to get him out of the way. They’re all just standing there, doing nothing but flapping their mouths. 

Someone should do something. Someone besides me. I’m too weak to get him out of the way if he struggles. Then again, everyone else in the crowd might be thinking the same…

I feel horrible. It’s that feeling when my mental fortitude has weakened and I’m about to make a mistake. I need to get out of here. I need to hide.

I see a public restroom and and stumble inside it. The place is blissfully empty, although it’s apparent why. I try to not look too closely at the floor and am thankful for my weak sense of smell.

The horrible tension inside of me isn’t going away. I quickly take my shirt off, knowing what would come next.

The blackness spreads across my skin and flames erupt off my back. It always starts there, quickly moving up my shoulders, then envelopes my head. Those are the places I have the least control over my temperature. Thankfully, I can keep my hands quite cool when necessary, and I take advantage of this to stuff my shirt and pants into my backpack to prevent any potential damage to them.

Now, I’m the monster, and I can’t turn it off. I pace around the filthy restroom for a while before facing the door and the noise of the crowd outside.

I could do something.

I step towards the door.

But… Everyone will see.

But they won’t see me, only the monster. Besides, a death on the tracks could delay my train.

I open the door and step into the buzzing crowd. The sea of people quickly parts in my presence and the screaming gets worse. I ignore it and press forward towards my goal. When I reach the tracks, I leap down and face the crazy man.

“¡Oye! What do you think you’re doing?” I call over to him, trying to emphasize my Spanish accent just as a precaution in case anyone could recognize my voice. It’s a little paranoid, but it feels right. “Get out of the way!”

The man turns around and stares at me for a moment before shrieking.

“You’re on fire!” He yelps.

“… I know. Look, the train’s coming, you need to get out of here.”

“No. I’m stopping it, fire boy.”

“¡Idiota! Get—” I feel a rumbling and look up, seeing a pair of glowing eyes emerging from the tunnel in front of me.

“¡No te queda tiempo!” I grab the man and throw him with my free hand. He’s probably fine, although he certainly could’ve broken some bones. Better than all of them. In the meantime, there’s still a train about to slam into me. I used up the time I could’ve spent getting out of the way saving the idiota, so now I need a different solution. I jump, latching onto the top of the train as it slows to a stop.

I consider climbing down, after the train comes to a stop, then I think about what would await me down there. Eyes. So many eyes. I’d have to keep up my monster around them all. I probably wouldn’t be able to. But what if someone tries to take a look into the tunnel to see what’s become of me?

I dim my flames so that my rough dark skin that only appears with this form blends into the darkness, keeping an eye on my fingertips, to make sure they don’t return to their usual pasty white complexion. If they did, that would likely mean I’m falling asleep. Not an ideal situation when the train begins moving again.

When will it start moving again? Will I be able to hold this form until then? And when it does, how will I keep it long enough to hold on? This is not a good plan.

The minutes start to blur as I continue to focus on my fingers, adamantly focusing my strength into keeping the white spots away.

The train begins to move and I nearly lose my balance. Thankfully, I’m able to grab onto the edge of the car I’m on top of. This is going to be a long ride.