Alamort

21. Priya

Freak -Lana Del Ray

Addi, things are getting bad again. I mean they never got better. So they’re getting worse. I know I promised to slow down on my “habit”, but I think you would understand if I told you what was going on. Through all of this bullshit I was able to pick a word for the day. Blazemoche (n.) – When listening to the crackling and burning of firewood is therapeutic.

A twenty-minute walk into the menacing woods later, River brings me to a clearing with a black hole about the length of me in the center. This is better than what I could’ve asked for.

“There are a couple of logs left. I mean there was last time I was out here,” River says, walking over to the left side of the pit to point out the couple of logs scattered on the ground.

“Will you come with me to get more small sticks?” I ask timidly. I’ve never lit a fire for anyone but my sister. And after my last incident in the woods, I don’t want either of us by ourselves. She comes over to me without hesitation, grabbing my hand, intertwining our fingers, and leads me to the edge of the clearing to the closest tree. A part of me wants to see her face. Is she judging me? Does she think I’m a psychopath, too? A weirdo? She hasn’t rejected me thus far. That has to mean something, right? Doubt and insecurities plague me. The sound of a branch cracking echoes through the forest. Foraging has begun.

I try not to let my excitement show too much in fear of scaring her off. Like a busy bee, I flit from one tree to the next, gathering the different shapes and varying sizes of sticks. By the time I’m satisfied with the amount of firewood I have, my arms are full. My pockets hold any tiny twigs I could collect. Beaming, I throw my pile into the pit. River follows my lead, tossing in an arm full of branches. It’s perfect. She keeps hold of one lone stick leaning against it, waiting.

“Now what?” She says, breathless from the exertion.

“Now? We burn this bitch up.” My hands shake as I grab the lighter fluid from out of my bag. Covering the logs, branches and little twigs with it, the butane and isobutane bringing a sense of rightness to the world. To complete the process, I add the finishing touch by writing the name ‘Addi’ with the fluid. It’s not like anyone is going to see it. But I’ll know. She will know.

My hand digs back into the bag at my feet, pulling out my book of matches that have been dormant for too long. Shining stars peek through the canopy of the trees. It makes me wonder what happens when we die. Are you nothing? An angel? Reincarnation? Can we become a star? I think I’d like to think my sister is a star, able to shine brightly over the world. Finally, the comfort of rubbing the matches makes its appearance.

With the black match between my fingers, I strike it against the rough strip and observe as it transforms into a flickering inferno. It burns a few seconds before I toss it into the manmade pit. The sudden burst of heat and light fills the air when a spark ignites the flames. Creating a fiery ocean in the sky before settling down into calm waves. The trees cower away from the scorching heat of the fire. The heaviness in my soul slips away. Instant relief.

Letting the heat chase away the coldness in my soul for a few moments, I sit. River settles down next to me, handing me the stick she purposefully kept out of her pile. Gratefully grabbing it, I play with the fire. Running after the dancing flame with the stick, the crackling and popping sounds bring the much-needed comfort I’ve been seeking since my sister’s absence.

“Ugh, I hate dirt,” River states, breaking the comfortable silence we’d been in. The dirt didn’t even cross my mind. The flames are more hypnotizing than our surroundings. I don’t tell her that. She doesn’t get the same satisfaction. Instead, I thank her by speaking her love language and lay my head on her shoulder.

“What happened?” At least she had an ice breaker before coming out with the question. Starting to shrug my shoulders and tell her I’m fine, she feels the movement and stops me.

“Don’t. Don’t patronize me.” My lips purse to keep the lies inside my mouth.

“Everything.” I whisper so quietly that I hope she didn’t hear me. She takes my hand in hers once again. I can feel the unity in her grasp, letting me know she’s here. So, I do the same thing and squeeze twice, “I’m here”. She does it back. My heart clenches at memories threatening to pull me away from the conversation, into a happier time.

Drawing in a deep breath, I start with things I can get away without telling her everything. “I think the dean might be a fucking perv.”

She doesn’t deny it, just questions ‘why?’.

I go into detail from beginning to end about our encounters. River stays quiet for a moment, in thought.

“What else? There’s more. This doesn’t come from one thing alone.” She gestures at the fire that’s still going.

I tell her about the envelope. How I know it’s something bad. That the same week someone left the missing person’s picture of Megan Riley taped to the gym locker room for me to find.

“Could it be someone trying to scare you away?” It’s not a far-fetched question, one I’ve asked myself more than once. It feels more threatening. Plus, where would they scare me away to? I don’t have anywhere else to go. I’m alone, truly alone. I shake my head.

“No. Something is wrong. Call me crazy, but I just know it’s something more.”

“I had a look at the camera feed from our hallway.” One answer to the many questions I have. “It’s some guy. Wearing all black and a hat to hide his face from the camera on our floor. But, you clearly see him tape it to the door. I’ll send you the video. Maybe you can see something that I don’t.”

Nodding, though, I doubt I’ll see something she didn’t. Another piece in my unsolvable puzzle. With no one tending to it, the fire is slowly dying. Believe when I say I want to, but I already feel bad for ruining River’s Saturday night.

“So…” She draws out the word. “Fire?”

Smirking, I nod. “Yeah, fire.”

“You’re a … pyromaniac?” She asks, unsure.

I shrug, “I dunno. I’ve never actually been diagnosed. It’s not as common in girls as it is in boys. But I like fire. A lot. Possibly more than most people should.” River nods like it’s a normal thing. And maybe it is here at Cox Academy. She did say ‘everyone is here for something’.

“It’s kind of why I was sent here.” Admitting it to her feels like a sin. When she stays quiet, I take that as a sign to continue. “My sister.” Tears clog my throat, thinking of the day I lost everything that mattered. “Two counts of involuntary manslaughter and aggravated reckless arson. Sentence pending upon completing this school year.” I mock the judge’s deep voice when he decided my fate that day.

It’s quiet until I hear her gasp over the crackling of the fire, still fighting to eat anything and everything it can, like me. I ruin everything I touch. I’m unable to look at her. Disgust, shame, fear. I’ve seen it all already.

“What happened?” The words are gentle, not prying. Asking for my truth. I appreciate she doesn’t jump to conclusions about what happened.

“I killed my sister.” The confession tastes like ash on my tongue.