Reviving December

Burning House

So, I want you guys to know that Reviving December means more to me than any of the stories I've written so far. It's personal. I would like to ask that any negative comments be kept to yourself for this reason, please. This one is for my Bee Charmer. ❤️

December

He knocked on my apartment door late one August evening asking if he could borrow a cup of sugar. He was handsome and charismatic, he seemed to have this way about him that charmed all of the people around him.He made all thoughts of life in Red Mire disappear, and the idea of a new life reappear. He didn't exactly fill the gaping hole inside but he definitely made it easier to escape the pain. Eric was the exact opposite of Cade. He wasn't gentlemanly, kind or genuine. In fact, he was harsh and uncaring to me, especially when we were alone. There were days where his bad side was the only side I ever saw, but in the beginning there were a few good days, too. But, those became less and less, until they eventually disappeared all together — and turned into days that made me question why I was even alive.

The first time he put hands on me, it was a simple smack. Swiftly across the face, open palm and a burning sting. I was so shocked by the movement that I just sat there, mouth gaping as he chastised me like a child for a comment made to one of his buddies. I wanted to assure myself later that night that he was sorry and would never do it again, but that wasn't the truth and I knew it deep down. He also gave no hint of remorse. I'm the end, I was right. It happened again, and again, until it became so normal for me that eventually I didn't realize it was wrong to the rest of the world. Until he grabbed me by the throat in the middle of the grocery store for an off handed comment about staring down another woman.

His hand tightened around my throat, squeezing harder with each second that passed. There was a dark look in his eyes I'd never quite seen before. My own hands were clawing at his forearm as my head grew fuzzier and the world began to dim.

"All you had to do was keep your mouth shut, sit there and look pretty like you're so good at." His words were sneers through gritted teeth, his reddened face pressing closer. I could feel his hand shaking as he grasped my throat, rage palpable on the air.

"But, you wanted away didn't you, little butterfly? So you agreed to press charges that wouldn't stick and tried to escape. Pretty little butterfly."

Darkness looked as I gasped harshly, hoping my eyes were conveying my regret, anything to get him to release me. I wanted to beg, to plead with him. I wasn't sorry I had tried to escape, I wasn't sorry I had let a stranger talk me into pressing charges after the incident in the store. I was only sorry I hadn't been fast enough to get away. Because now I was here, gasping for air like I was gasping for life.

"Pretty things break easily, Deci, it's a hard truth you're just going to have to accept." He sneered, gripping my throat tighter as he pressed me against the bathroom door, his dark eyes glazed over. My vision began to darken, the edges furling like the ears of well read book. I gasped, fighting against his hold, nails digging into the flesh of his arm, trying to speak past the burning sensation devouring my trachea. "Pretty things shatter, December, and you're going to see that they don't get fixed."

As the darkness overtook the last thought I had was that finally I was going to be free.

"I'll show you, you can't leave me."

*
Smoke.

The entire apartment smelled of smoke and a thick cloud hung in the air. My lungs and throat burned as I tried to drag in oxygen. I could faintly hear the whining of the alarm in the back, the sad little chirp telling me what I already had registered. Sirens were wailing, something was hissing and all I could remember as the haze in my kind cleared was those last words. That he would show me.The apartment was on fire. I could see flames licking from underneath the bedroom door, the flicker of orange lights cascading into the darkened room.

My spot on the floor didn't give me much of a view but I could tell it was coming from the general location of the bedroom. My head throbbed and body protested as I attempted to move off of the carpet, stomach churning and threatening to overflow with the pain. Shakily I was able to get to my feet while weaving unsteadily toward the direction of the front door — until I heard the screams.

"December, baby, help me."

I was torn, so close to freedom. I should help him, I knew deep down I should, but I couldn't force myself to move.

The room filled with smoke faster, the dark thick fog dancing merrily as it overtook the oxygen, stealing any cognitive thoughts I had. It was stay and die or leave and live. Fight or flight. A part of me ached to go to him, to save Eric even though he'd done nothing but steal my light, my soul. He'd killed the part of me long ago, years ago that meant the most, but what kind of monster did it make me if I left him?

"Dece? Save me!"

Anchored to the ground I still didn't move. With all my might I warred internally. Save him, or myself. What could I do? My heart sank. Despite his violence, anger and hatred, he didn't deserve to die in this. He didn't deserve to perish among the mess he created, right?

"December, you stupid whore! I hope you burn! Don't you f*cking leave me!"

Something inside clicked with those words, a strength that hadn't existed in so long I thought it to be dead. Instead of moving toward the fire raging, my hand made contact with the knob of the front door and I cast a long, last look toward the monster that had nearly killed me, bidding a soft goodbye. 

It was one mistake I made, one attempt to save myself that nearly killed me. And in the end had devoured him instead.