Page 69 of Like A Moth To A Flame

As the flames danced higher and higher, I found myself transfixed. The heat was intense, but it wasn’t the fire that held me in place. It was something deeper, something primal. I felt a connection to the flames, a strange sense of kinship. It was the same way I felt for my moth—inexplicably drawn to the point of danger, even if I knew it was a bad decision.

I took one last look at the wreckage I had created and stepped back, closing the warehouse door behind me. The cool night air wrapped around me once more, and I began to make my way back to my truck.

As I drove away from the carnage, I couldn’t help but feel a strange satisfaction. The weight of the anger and chaos that had consumed me was finally gone, replaced by clarity and purpose.

And as the sun began to rise, I found myself driving aimlessly through the deserted streets, the remnants of flames still clinging to my skin. I felt empty, but oddly at peace. I came to a stop at a red light, my eyes fixed on the closed storefronts and empty sidewalks. I lived for this moment of solitude, the freedom it gave me from the world, and the responsibilities that come with it. But now, I felt more isolated than I had before.

18

Would you ever believe that a fire is set each time I try to sleep?

Moth

When I woke up the next morning, part of me was shocked to still be alive.

I opened my eyes, looking around the room, rapidly blinking and rubbing my eyes, but no matter how hard I looked, everything stayed exactly the way I’d left it.

I was alone. It was daylight.

I had closed myself into a cage with a rabid wolf and lived to tell the tale.

Not sure if I was lucky or if I had really won, I looked up, gazing into the closet.

He’d said there was a camera in there, but even now, squinting in the broad daylight, with sunlight streaming in and directly into it, I saw nothing.

Had he been lying? Probably not, but I also didn’t plan on going looking for it.

Why? What did it matter? He could get in any time he wanted anyway, so who cared what he could see and what he couldn’t?

I moved to swing my legs over the edge of the bed and stopped, groaning. I knew that feeling—that sticky, warm, disgustingly wet feeling.

“Son of a bitch,” I grumbled, reaching down to gather my clothes and step across the room, grabbing my duffel bag and dragging it along with me. I tiptoed down the hallway into the bathroom, snapping the door closed before Amelia could ask questions. Plopping down onto the toilet, there was no denying it. Surprise periods were always fun.

I stripped and threw my underwear into the sink, jumping into the shower.

I hated the way it made me feel so unclean. I hated the way it made me sticky and uncomfortable, and the throb had already begun in my lower belly, radiating outwards to every limb until my entire body ached and hurt.

Love it. So fun. Flipping on the tap, I aimed the sprayer away from me to give the cold water time to leave while I shuffled around in my bag for the razor. It had been a while since I shaved anyway, and I hated inserting tampons when I hadn’t shaved. It hurt, it tugged, and it was all around unpleasant.

I had just found my razor when a soft tap on the door alerted me, and I ducked back into the shower.

“Nessa?” Amelia’s soft voice floated through the air, already humid and steaming from the shower. “You okay?”

“Yes,” I called back. “Fine. Just grabbing a quick shower, then we can make breakfast.”

“Alright,” she said, and there was relief in her voice. “I’m gonna watch some TV.”

“Fine by me.”

As the water cascaded down my body, I let out a long sigh, feeling the tension slowly ebb away with each drop of water across my shoulders. The bathroom was filled with steam, enveloping me like a comforting hug. I lathered up with shaving cream and carefully ran the razor over my skin, the familiar ritual bringing a sense of normalcy amidst the chaos. It calmed me, helping me forget—at least for now.

I quickly finished my shower, trying to shake off the discomfort that lingered both physically and emotionally. I dug my emergency box of tampons out of my duffel bag and got dressed in a pair of loose, baggy black sweatpants and an old Barbie t-shirt I’d had since college.

It was my comfortwear, and if any day called for it, it was today.

Tampon in place and phone safe in my pocket, I stepped out of the bathroom and down the stairs to find Amelia sprawled on the couch, her attention fixed on the TV screen. She glanced up at me as I passed by and offered a small smile before returning to her show.

I made my way to the kitchen, feeling the hunger gnawing at my insides. I pulled open the fridge and found a carton of eggs, a couple pounds of bacon, some peppers, and some butter.

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