Page 35 of Burn
Fuck you too.
The bile rises in my throat, burning me on top of the heat from the fire, making me choke and gasp for much needed air. I swallow hard over and over again, trying to keep it down, but it’s futile. The liquid vomit comes from me like a tidal wave, rushing from my mouth and splattering all over the ground at my knees. I haven’t eaten anything really in days, and it shows when the foamy, yellow water rolls across the ground in little rivers.
“No. No evidence.” I murmur, wiping my mouth with the back of my gloved hand.
I’m losing my mind more, my insanity rising to a level I can’t control, and I do what I never do. I touch the body as it burns.
Her skin peels from her lower leg as I grab her at the ankle and pull her towards my vomit pile. I need the fire, the heat, the flames to burn it away, and to destroy the DNA. It needs to burn away as she does, just like she’s trash, so it’s the evidence of my sickness from the war in my head. It’s crazy, I’m crazy, and I’m going to get caught, then all of this, everything I’ve ever done will have been for naught. But on top of that, if I’m in a jail cell, I can’t be with Phoenix, and she’ll have been abandoned by me for a third time.
Abandon her, leave her. You and me only. Like it’s always been.
I can feel myself giving in to his madness. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I should walk away from her for good. I mean I’ve made it this past week without her. It’ll get better the longer I’m away. I won’t miss her soon. I won’t want to be with her once I get my old self back. Right?
“No.”
Yes!
“No!”
You know I’m right. I’m always right. I’m the one that’s always here for you. Since the day you killed your mother. I’ve always been here. You and me Zephyr. We don’t need anyone else.
“I didn’t kill her. She killed herself. She burned our house down with her fucking drugs!” I shout, slapping the ground with my hand, almost catching my glove on fire from the blaze in front of me that smells like a mediterranean grill as she cooks.
It was you who drove her to it. Your uselessness, your utter existence was enough to do it. You’re no good. You’re rotten. No one loves you, not even she did.
“That’s not true.” I cry out, hitting the blazing corpse, feeling the heat through my leathers, letting the same fire that consumes her lick and taste me.
I love you.
“I hate you! Hate you! I fucking hate you!” I wail, punching and beating the pile of goo that she’s become as the fire continues to eat her fat fucking meat sack.
Wetness from the melting fat and skin splashes up on my face, driving me madder. Her filth is on me now, because I took my helmet off fromhimmaking me overheated. I want to puke again from the sheer foulness of her diseased mess touching my bare skin. It’s disgusting, infecting me, making me no better than her.
You are no better. You’re worse.
“I’m what YOU made me.” I growl, snapping my teeth in the pure rage that flows through me now.
No, you made me. You needed someone to blame. You know I’m not real. I’m you.
I need to get away fromhimand from her. I need to breathe air that isn’t smoke. I need to taste the freshness of oxygen that’s not tainted with the sickness of the whore burning on the ground from my flames. She’s only here because he made me bring her here. She died to appease him.
But I’m you. She died to appease you.
“I’ve lost it. That’s what this is. I’ve gone mad. I’ve finally snapped.” I murmur to myself, climbing off the ground, getting my numb feet under me. “That’s all this is. This isn’t real.”
I know it’s a disillusion of what I’ve wanted for myself, but after all what has been real or not for the past decade and a half? I don’t even know anymore.
“Ride. I need to ride.” I pant, stumbling to the bike, slapping my helmet back on my head, not even bothering to wipe the rest of the splatter from my face.
I’m already tainted, infected, ruined by the filth. It’s nothing though, compared to the filth inside of me, in my head, and in my heart. I’m trash just like them all. I may not do drugs, I may not whore out my body, but I take and take without giving. I’m a leech on the world just like them. I’m not cleansing the earth like I made myself believe, I’m charring it with my own destruction.
“No good. I’m no good.” I chant as I fire up the bike and hop on, twisting the throttle, making her scream out loud in the tunnel, her noise echoing so loudly it almost drowns him out of my head. Almost.
Ever realize that all your problems are called she and her?
“Shut up.” I say loud enough to be heard over the sound of the engine.
Make me.
