The Arsonist

The girl hissed as the handcuffs binding her to the metal table dug further into her wrists.

There's no way I'm getting these off, she thought, as she let her mangled bobby pin clatter to the floor. She threw her head back, squinting at fluorescent lights, and cursing her own stupidity. She considered the fact that maybe she shouldn't be too upset. Technically she was safer in here than out there, depending on how you define the word “safe.”

In here, she’d be sheltered from the fires and hurricanes that raged outside, but who knows if she’d make it out of here alive. As the cops dragged her through the cold, dark hallways she’d noticed that everything in this building was made of nearly impenetrable steel, just like she’d seen in the rich neighborhoods. Setting fires to these buildings was merely a nuisance. She could do substantial damage, but nothing permanent.

The girl is usually very good at what she does. She never gets caught. She almost began to regret going back for the necklace, but it was the only tangible thing she had left that connected her to him. The girl couldn’t help but wonder whether she should’ve just let it burn. She was glad she told Jen to run. Her whole family is dead and Jen is all she has left. If she died, no one else would care. The death toll climbs higher everyday. She’d be just another body.

She didn't look forward when she heard the door open and slam shut, followed by heavy footsteps that seemed to take their sweet time making their way to meet her. After the footsteps came the screeching of a chair, a soft grunt, and finally, a booming voice that announced her name with a slight hint of amusement.

“Kianna James, 19, with one of the longest rap sheets I’ve ever seen. I might get promoted for bringing you in.”

“Congratulations,” Kianna said, finally meeting his gaze.

“You and your little girlfriend have gotten yourselves into some trouble,” the cop said before shutting the file. “You like setting fires Ms. James?”

“‘Like’ isn't really the term I would use,” Kianna said. “It's more of a necessity.”

“Is it? How so?”

“You know,” Kianna said, clumsily dodging the question. “I always imagined what it might be like to get caught, and this isn't really how I expected the questioning to go. I thought it’d be something more like ‘where were you the night of August 25th?”

The cop, who Kianna identified as “Officer Richmond” after a quick glance at his tag, chuckled and leaned forward. “ You and I both know you wont give me any real information, and frankly there's not much else I need to know to lock you away. I’m more interested in how the hell you got here.”

“ I could ask you the same fucking thing.”

Officer Richmond noticed the twinge of disgust in her voice and brushed it off.

“We’ve been chasing you for two years...why’d you get caught?”

“Two years huh?” Kianna laughed. “How long did it take your dumbasses to realize that you were looking for two women?”

“This would be a lot easier for you if you answered my questions,” Richmond said. “You realize I might actually be able to help you.” Kianna paused for a long moment. “Just because you can doesn't mean that you will,” she finally said. “What about your big promotion?”

In the hours she’d been sitting there Kianna had not allowed herself to dwell too much on what being here actually means, or what could happen to her. If this didn't kill her, Jen might, that is if she ever got to see her again. She decided her best bet was to cooperate while she figured a way out. She knew Jen, her girlfriend, had made it out. She was probably already brainstorming a way to rescue her too. All Kianna had to do was survive the next few days. She might have a better shot doing so in here than out there anyway.

“I went back for the necklace,” Kianna said, gesturing to the heart shaped locket around her neck. “My dad gave it to me.”

“Don’t worry,” Kianna said before officer Richmond could respond. “He isn’t the brilliant mastermind behind all this. He's dead and you killed him.”

The officer raised a brow.

“You know what I mean,” Kianna spat, her voice rife with ice and venom. “I may be an arsonist but at least I'm not a traitor.”

Officer Richmond looked at her cooly, “why start fires?”

“Nothing says rage like fire.”

“Half of California is constantly burning. I’m sure the state doesn't need any help from you”

“I set fires all over the country,” Kianna said with a smirk.

“Why?”

“Black liberation will never be possible without Black rage.”

The officer laughed long and hard, when he finally spoke his amusement was replaced by coldness. He leaned forward and met her eyes with a piercing gaze, his disdain creeping into his voice. “You're running around setting fire to a world you know so little about.”

“I know enough.” Kianna’s voice hardened like the cool, steel walls that trapped her. “I know we've been fucked since ‘The Green New Deal failed to pass. I know California is on fire and Florida's underwater. I know half of this country is completely inhabitable and life outside this fortress is hell. I know Black and brown people have suffered, are suffering, and will continue to suffer under this system. I know George Floyd was murdered 30 years ago and we've been watching Black people die almost everyday since. I know that I’m so fucking tired of being told to wait. I’m tired of being told how to protest my own oppression. I’m tired of being told how to respond to my own trauma.”

She said it all in one breath.

“I set fires because if there's anything I’ve learned during my time on this godforsaken Earth it's that everything is about power. Freedom isn't something you can beg your oppressor for, it's something you take. White people have no incentive to change unless refusing to do so becomes threatening to them. Pretty soon rich white people are gonna leave this place and colonize Mars, and they'll take some of us with them, because the ruling class needs people to rule. I know all of this. But you know what I don't know? What I can't seem to wrap my fucking head around is why you think youre so goddamn special! You get a badge and a gun and suddenly you think you're somebody? You think they don't hate you too?”

Kianna was shaking and after a long period of silence officer Richmond finally sighed. “ You said it yourself, it's about power. You're not the only one whose family has been murdered, but your passion is misplaced. I became a cop because I realized early on who has it and who doesn't.”

Officer Richmond met Kianna’s eyes with something akin to sympathy. “This dream of yours, this fantasy of “liberation” won't happen in this lifetime or the next. Stop chasing something you will never achieve and learn how to protect yourself. Your approach is misguided anyway. What about those leaders you worship? MLK didn't tell the Black community to start fires.”

“Who said anything about worship?” Kianna spat back. “If you hadn't noticed I’m more Malcom X than MLK, but even he said he had come to believe that we are integrating into a burning house. His ‘dream’ became a nightmare.”

“ He also said we're going to have to become firemen.”

“Well look at us now!” Kianna said, her bitter laugh dripping with dread. A sickening feeling began to crawl up her throat. She really could die here. She could die here for nothing.

“Maybe he was wrong.” All the fight had fled Kianna’s body. “Maybe you're right.”

“Maybe we shouldnt dream at all.”