Page 36 of Burn
“Shut the fuck up!”
My screams athimmatch the noise from my bike as I take off through the catacombs. It’s deafening, all of it together as I race away from what I’ve done, feeling guilty and not at the same time. Wanting to stay and watch her burn yet needing to leave. I’m one big fucking conundrum as I flee from my sins and myself. Only I can’t escape the worst of it all, the one in my head that keeps me insane.
Chapter
Eighteen
The ride isn’t cleansing, but it is slightly settling. I take the exit from the catacombs, back out onto the street. The echoes die down and the sound of my exhaust gets lost it the fresh air of the city’s night sky. It’s a ride that means nothing because I can’t get away from the feeling inside of me. Her engine screaming isn’t screaming for me. I’m becoming numb.
The panic, the adrenaline, all of it’s simmering down as I take the streets one at a time, not even knowing where I’m going. I’m lost in all the thoughts in my head, but thankfully they’re all mine.He’squiet. He hasn’t said anything since “make me”and it’s a reprieve that has my heart rate coming back down, and my head leveling out from the back-and-forth blur that was our fight.
Still though, I feel mad, madder than the hatter that dove down the hole. I’m insane, I know this now. And Phoenix must be as well if she wants me the way I am. The fact that she asked me to hurt her, and let me burn her shows that the only person who can and will care about me, is just as fucked up as I am.
I need to see her, I want to see her, but I’m afraid. Though he may be quiet now and has promised to leave her alone since I fried that chubby whore in the tunnels, I can’t trust him, because as he said, he is me, and I can’t trust myself.
The scenery and surroundings become familiar as I ride, with the houses lining the sidewalks becoming ones I recognize, ones that bring me a sort of comfort. Then, before I realize where I actually am, I find myself pulling into the spot across the street from my obsession’s apartment, the one I left a week ago when I ran from her and the thoughts I was having about her. It’s all back to her now and probably will be forever.
The outside looks just like normal, it’s quiet and clean, with the steps flanked by the urns of flowers, and the front windows illuminated by the flickering yellowish light from her ceiling fans that she leaves on all the time to move the air around the antique abode. I can feel the warmth from inside radiating out in that light and it does some weird things to my insides, heating them but not how fire does. It’s different, welcoming, and peaceful.
Staring at her place brings me solace, and a tranquility that I haven’t felt since I was buried in her seven days ago. Before I took my flame to her, when we were in the shower and everything else in the world had slipped away except the feeling of my skin on hers, my hands on her, my cock in her.
I want to go in, to walk right in that door and to claim her as mine again. To act like the past week hasn’t happened, to go back to the way we were beforehetook over.
Zeph…
“Oh hell no, motherfucker. You promised.”
Okay, fine. Loser. Ha ha ha ha ha.
His voice dies away with his maniacal laughter after he calls me a loser. He’s right though, right?
The front door opens and closes, bringing all of my attention to the sound of her leaving. She looks as beautiful as ever, with her black hair blowing in the night breeze, and her cat-like eyes scanning the sidewalk up and down the street. Her legs are bare below the hem of a crocheted sundress with little straps that grace her slender shoulders. Wooden and sisal clogs adorn her pretty little feet. She looks Boho chic and oh so pretty, almost virginal.
“Where are you going so late, baby?” I ask her silently in my helmet my words too quiet for her to hear from across the street.
She steps off the sidewalk and crosses the road in front of her building, jogging across the street, then down to the right. Instead of going into the bodega on the corner, she passes it and turns left, going down the side street.
“Something different tonight? Let me guess, you haven’t eaten there since last week.” I say as I climb off the bike and follow her on foot, leaving my helmet hanging off the handlebar.
I catch up to her quickly, seeing her open the front door of the fifties inspired doo-wop type of diner a block down. The pink and green neon lights from the restaurant’s sign glows on her skin and crown before she disappears through the chrome and glass entrance.
I feel like a crazed stalker following her again, this time with no intentions of allowing her to see me. If she knows I’m here, the whole thing will start over again, and I’m not ready for that. I shouldn’t even be here, watching, following, creeping around her. I couldn’t help myself though, my two wheels just brought me here without me telling them to.
Something to eat wouldn’t hurt, would it?
“Shhh. Not now.”
Come on, go in, sit in the back, she’ll never see you.
“Enough. Go away.”
Whatever.
Shaking my head to clearhimaway again, I stroll to the diner’s doors and peek in. She’s being seated in a forward-facing booth in the front by a middle aged, blonde, very hard-faced waitress.
Just slip in when she’s not looking and go to the back. She’ll never know.
“Shush.”
