A Tinderbox of Vengeance

The hospital reeked of disinfectant and burn ointment, the suffocating mix heavy enough to choke a person.

George had been rushed straight into the ICU the moment he arrived—covered in third-degree burns. The doctors issued multiple critical-condition notices. Whether he would live or die was still unknown.

Lisa survived, but her face, neck, and hands were all severely burned. For a woman who valued her looks more than her life, this was a fate worse than death.

I had barely reached the doorway of her hospital room when I heard the piercing screams inside.

"It's Finn! All of it—everything—is his fault!" Lisa shrieked, her voice hoarse and dripping with venom.

"He did it on purpose! He barked at George like a mad dog just to provoke him, to embarrass him! He wanted George dead!"

She was twisting the facts. A classic villain crying foul first.

But what she said next chilled me far more.

"And… and he threatened me!" Her voice cracked with feigned fear.

"Right before the explosion, he sent me a message—he said he never liked George, said… said he wished George would just die! I have screenshots. I have proof!"

The door suddenly yanked open from the inside. George's mother, hair disheveled and eyes blood-red like a vengeful ghost, spotted me instantly.

"You! Murderer!" she screeched, clawing at my face like she wanted to tear it off. "Give me back my son! You despicable bastard, why did you set him up to die?!"

A middle-aged man with an unmistakable air of authority charged out right behind her—Lisa's father.

He dragged George's mother aside and jabbed a finger at my nose, his face livid.

"Finn, you animal! Lisa treated you so well, and you let her end up disfigured! This isn't over! Mark my words—you're going to rot in prison!"

The patients and families gathered nearby started whispering and pointing.

"It's him? He looks decent enough—how can someone this sinister hide in plain sight?"

"Young people these days… hurting others over petty relationship drama. Terrifying."

A middle-aged woman even spat at my feet, glaring at me with open contempt.

"You dare wear that uniform? Firefighters save lives—you take them! You don't deserve to wear that badge!"

"Exactly! How did a psychological deviant like you get into the fire department? Didn't learn how to save people, but scheming comes naturally! Take off that uniform and get out—you're disgracing real heroes!"

The insults buzzed around me like a swarm of flies.

And still, Lisa felt it wasn't enough. Her body began to tremble violently. Her bandaged fingers pointed shakily at me.

"Ah—! Don't come near me! Stay away! Murderer!"

"Dad! Mom! Make him leave! I'm scared! He hurt George! Now he's here to hurt me too!"

She curled up at the corner of the bed, crying harder, putting on a full, dramatic performance.

Seeing the girl her beloved son loved terrified out of her mind, George's mother's rage boiled over.

"You monster—trying to scare her too?! I'll kill you!"

Lisa's father shook with fury. He turned to the crowd and shouted, "Everyone, look! This is the 'hero' they talk about! Today I'll demand justice—for my daughter, and for George, who's still fighting for his life in the ICU!"

The crowd's emotions ignited completely. The accusations surged, harsher, louder.

And as I watched this farce unfold—this carefully staged attack designed to destroy me—I understood instantly.

Lisa wanted every sin, every consequence, every piece of fallout to land squarely on me. She wanted me ruined.

Fine, since she was this ruthless, she couldn't blame me for the consequences that came. Whatever sympathy I had left evaporated in that moment.

"Lisa," I said coldly, locking eyes with her contorted face on the hospital bed, "this performance of yours… it's about time the curtain came down."

The hallway fell into an eerie silence for a heartbeat. I saw the panic flicker in her eyes.

The next second, I reached into my chest pocket and pulled out the recorder.

"What a coincidence," I said. "I also have something I'd like everyone to hear."