Murderer

Chapter 26: Brendon

Fire.

It's hot, dangerous, searing, sweltering, smoking. But we use it for everything. Campfires, stoves, grills, smoking tobacco or weed, and all the while we are causing chemical reactions. Take paper for example, it wants to oxidize into CO2 and H2O, but it can only do this at high temperature. If you heat the paper adequately, it will "catch fire." Flammable materials are chemically unstable at high temperatures. We're bloody scientists.

What I like about fire is that it gets rid of evidence. Not that I have anything to hide or burn, rather I am hoping to go unnoticed from stealing from my own house. It was the only way I would have been able to get a weapon without being seen. I knew when my parents were home, and when they were not. When I had the chance, I went in, grabbed some knives and package of gum, and burned the place I grew up in down to the ground. I felt guilty that my parents would have no where to live, but I knew that they could pick themselves back up and hopefully find a home far away from the pond. When I return to them, I do not want to be anywhere near that place.

The pond was where I lived now. I walked along the edge of the pond until I reached the other side, just in case any policemen decided to do a little snooping. But the place was quiet usually, with no sign of life. This was the place where I had the rest of eternity to think.

I pulled out the picture of Ryan that I had previously collected from my room before turning my own home into ashes. I could hear firetrucks arriving at the house, and a part of me wanted to go out there and watch the commotion as if I was a young kid on the block. But the other half of me reminded the other half that I was supposed to be dead. I took the piece of gum that I was chewing out of my mouth and stuck it on the back of the picture of Ryan. I pulled out Ryan's notebook, flipping it to a blank page before sticking the photograph to it. I wasn't sure how long I stared at that photograph afterwards, but it had looked like it had rained on only that page. I took out a pencil and wrote one line.

Stay alive, for me.

I worried about him every minute of everyday, I had no idea where Christopher had taken him, and I felt so far away from him now. He could be in another state, or another country for all I knew. All I wanted right now was to feel the warm embrace of one of Ryan's hugs. I remembered them clearly, for he had gone through a lot with his father who was an alcoholic. He needed a friend, and I was there for him. I just wanted things to go back to how they were, us studying for tests together, talking about our classes or our lives, watching TV together before my parents came home. I needed him more than ever, and Christopher was stopping him from being here for me. That's why I had to do something about it. But I just hoped Ryan could hang in there for just a bit longer, but I swore that I would go as soon as I was prepared. I had the address to Christopher's parents house, I had written it down at the library with...

I ran my hands through my hair. He took her too. Memories would flash before my eyes. Sometimes I would pretend to have conversations with her. Other times I collected wild flowers that I found around the pond for her. But when I realized that she wasn't really there, I would tear the flowers to pieces, and the imaginary conversation would end with me rolling around on the ground, knees curled against my chest, tugging at my hair, swearing to myself.

I placed each knife strategically on the ground in a circle shape, before lying down in the middle. I yearned for the feeling of danger, and surrounding myself with knives did just that, and well...it looked badass. Tomorrow I would train, and prepare to put an end to everything.