Page 70 of Like A Moth To A Flame

I couldn’t cook. I somehow managed to fuck up boiling water, but I had to try. I had to feed myself. Eating at the diner every single day simply wasn’t practical, and it was expensive. I pulled a pan out of the cabinet and plopped it down on the stove, glaring at itlike it was an unfortunately placed pile of dog excrement on the bottom of my shoe.

I hated cooking.

Cookinghated me.

It was a mutual hatred born from not having a parent around to teach me, and me deciding it just wasn’t an important skill to learn.

Just as I flipped open the carton of eggs, Amelia called from the living room.

“Holy shit, dude!” she said. “Someone set a fucking factory on fire!”

I stopped, turning away from the stove and making my way into the front room, my arms crossed over my aching uterus.

Goddamn hormones.

Sure enough, she was right. The arsonist seemed to be back at work. On the screen, the same reporter as before stood in front of the camera. Behind her, an old, abandoned factory smoldered and smoked, the flames licking at the sky in a blazing dance. The reporter was gesturing wildly, her voice barely audible over the crackling fire.

“…latest in a string of attacks that has spanned for nearly ten years. Still, no suspects have been found. The factory had once been a paper mill that shut down in the mid-’90s, purchased last month by a developer who—”

I stopped listening, yanking my phone out of my pocket and flipping it on. Did I dare to poke the bear with a stick?

I dared.

Opening the text, I found him and typed a quick message.

Kinda odd that these arsons happen every time you’re frustrated. Coincidence?

It took a few seconds, but I got a response.

I don’t believe in coincidences, Little Moth.

I guess we had that in common.

I hadn’t heard Amelia get up from the couch or creep across the room. I didn’t even know she was there until she snatched the phone from me and bolted.

“Hey!” I screamed, taking off after her. She shrieked like a banshee, cackling in glee as she stared at my phone screen. Somehow, she was able to read while also dodging every single one of my attacks like a border collie dodged cattle.

How the fuck did she do that?!

“Give me the phone, Amelia!”

“What’s this?! What isthat?!”

Finally, I caught up to her, half tackling her to the ground with an oomph and a screech, and we went tumbling down like a pair of dominos.

As we hit the ground, the air whooshed out of my lungs and my head smacked against the hardwood. Groaning and disoriented, I tried to focus on wrestling my phone back, but she was surprisingly strong for her size. Our limbs tangled together like a pair of drunken octopuses, each of us fighting for possession of the phone that lay just out of reach.

“Amelia, stop it!” I gasped, finally managing to pin her arms down with my knees. She wriggled beneath me, her giggles turning into squeals of protest as I reached for the phone.

But before I could grab it, she twisted her body and pushed me off balance. With a triumphant grin, she scrambled to her feet and darted towards the front door, my phone clutched tightly in her hand.

“No! Amelia, come back here!” I yelled, staggering upright and lunging after her.

“You were on the phone with him for an hour last night!?”

I sprinted after her with a newfound burst of energy, fueled by frustration and determination. Amelia was fast, but I was determined, and I had many generation’s worth of feminine rage and Aunt Flow backing me. She made it to the front door first, fumbling with the lock as I closed in on her. With one final burst of speed, I lunged forward and managed to grab her by the arm just as she swung the door open.

“Give me the phone!” I panted, my heart racing in my chest. She turned to face me, her eyes wide with a mixture of mischief and defiance.

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