Page 117 of Burn Like An Angel

The pungent scent is thick in my nose as it fills the room. I’ve turned the studio into a tinder box. I take a moment to enjoy the scene before pulling a cigarette lighter from my jeans.

Elsewhere, Harrowdean is being ripped down for the final time. Bricks pummelled and secrets burned. I’ll burn its legacy here and finally set us all free. We need to forget. It’s the only way to start living.

Flames leap from the lighter’s tip. All emotion drains away as I drop it onto the pile of rubble. The effect is instantaneous.

Fire engulfs the stacks of evidence, setting noxious fluid alight in bright-blue flames. Black smoke curls from the smouldering pages, setting off multiple fire alarms.

Yet not even the blaring racket can rouse me. I’ve zoned out, staring deep into the flames, watching our history vanish for the last time.

I thought I’d be relieved.

Defeat settles like ash instead.

I can’t burn the memories. Years of suffering. Lives destroyed, by our own hands and theirs. Indelible scars left behind on skin and soul alike. Truthfully, nothing can erase that lifelong trauma.

“No!” The studio door cracks open. “Stand back!”

I’m manhandled from the room, now billowing with thick smoke. Bodies swarm, and footsteps pound. The screeching alarms add to the escalating panic, and in the mayhem, I summon a smile.

“You!” Elliot stops in front of me, spitting with anger. “You did this!”

“Correct.” I seize fistfuls of his cheap dress shirt. “Our story is not your life’s work. It never belonged to you.”

Grabbing my hands, he tries to prise free. The alarm on his face is enough satisfaction for me. I haven’t hurt anyone for a long time, but that side of me is still in there. I can bring it forward if he doesn’t let this selfish pursuit of fame die.

“Xander! Put him down immediately!”

My scalp prickles, a flush racing all over me. I release Elliot, setting him back on his feet, and look over his shoulder at the lilting voice spelling my name out with utter disbelief.

Ripley stomps closer, her weary, hazel orbs trained on me. “You had no right.”

I lick my suddenly dry lips. “I had every right.”

She looks between the fire being tackled with extinguishers and Elliot scuttling away from me, shouting down his phone at an emergency responder. My little toy’s anger still tastes the sweetest.

“This was my choice,” she screams at me.

“I’m protecting you! You have no idea what this will unleash!”

Ripley stops in front of me, our faces almost touching. The years have softened her sweetheart-shaped features and lightly-freckled skin. She still wears her septum piercing after all these years.

“I’m choosing to unleash it.” Ripley’s furious eyes scour my face. “I need to speak up. I can’t spend another year hiding in the flat, painting the pain away until it returns come daybreak.”

Hand spasming, I take her cheek into my palm. Despite her fury, she leans into my touch, a ritualistic behaviour that’s stood the test of time. Years haven’t diminished the intensity between us.

“It’s killing me,” she whispers. “I want to live, but I can’t until I face the past.”

Unwelcome guilt infects my cells. “Don’t make me watch you get hurt again, Rip. We barely survived.”

She rests her hand over mine. “And we’re still not living. Not really.”

Foreheads meeting, I push my lips on hers. Each time we kiss, it’s like the first time all over again. Back then, I wasmanipulating her. Ensnaring the touch-starved orphan with the attention she craved in order to achieve my own goals.

Yet another story I’d like to erase.

One the world won’t get.

So much of our history doesn’t bear dredging back up. I wish our family had been forged under better circumstances. That we hadn’t spent so long hurting each other or found our strength when it was too late.

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