Alexander Hamilsin

Burn

Angst still counts as sin, right?

Don't read if you're sensitive to gore (even if it's terribly written)

There are moments that the words don't reach, there is suffering too terrible to name. You hold your family as close as you can, and learn to live with the unimaginable...

By myself again. Elizabeth Schuyler. On the bench. That same bench. Except it's never the same bench.

Look at where we are, look at where we started...

First it was Alex. My one true love, my pride and joy, my darling angel. He's a real angel now. Although his death didn't phase me. He'd already died in my eyes. He died the second he let that whore step foot in our house.

The Reynolds Pamphlet...

Have I read it? Of course I have. Over and over. And over again. And again. Ten more times. And again. And as many times as humanly possible. I have it memorized. I recite it out loud in the park;

I owe perhaps to my friends an apology for condescending to give a public explanation. A just pride with reluctance stoops to a formal vindication against so despicable of a contrivance and is inclined rather to oppose to it the uniform evidence of an upright character...

The words make me laugh. Rolling off my tongue like nothing. I laugh harder. And harder. Until I'm crying and laughing and screaming in the empty park, rolling off of the bench and onto the grass. Grass... like the very grass on which my son died.

Now, Phillip is different from his father. Phillip loved me, and I love him. Phillip was a true miracle, my beautiful little poet.

My name is Phillip, I am a poet...

I loved him too much to let him die. I shouldn't have let him die. It was my fault. I let him die. I let that child spill the blood of my beautiful baby all over the grass, paint the landscape with that gruesome red.

Un deux troix quatre cinq six sept...

I stop laughing. But only for a second. Then I erupt again, more laughter.

My son...

My sisters.

Angelica...

And Peggy...

Gone too. Everyone is gone. My children don't matter right now, nor does the orphanage. It may be selfish- no, it is most definitely selfish. Insanity is a selfish thing. Laughter will help.

Look around, look around, at how lucky we are to be alive right now...

My throat is raw and dry, it burns. Too much laughing. Too much death. Too much pain. Too much. Too much. Too much. Too much.

Burn...

Ah, yes. The only way. It'll fix this. Fix me. Fix us all. I'll call on a stranger, a random person to help me.

Burn...

Found one. I walk over. I pin him down. Snap his left leg. Great. He'll have no problem helping me now. Nevermind. He hobbles away, screaming and bleeding. I'll do it myself, as always.

The orphanage...

Light it. Some oil and matches will do the trick. I have some in my handbag. Don't ask why. Doors are locked. Kids inside. I can't leave them here, in this terrible world. They're coming with me!

When you broke her heart...

The human heart. It's a funny thing, isn't it? It keeps us alive. It hurts us until we want to die. I'll get rid of it. Gone. Poof! Just like magic. Then I'll be free. Safe. Safe and free. With my son. Free from pain. Soon. Safe. Free.

Burn...

Orphanage is lit. Flames. Crackling and popping and sizzling. Pretty. Great. Now. Where did I put my pocket knife? Oh of course. In my pocket. Silly Eliza, always forgetting. Forget. Pain. Soon. Safe. Free.

Burn...

I tear off my shirt. I cut into the soft flesh. I feel it. It's painful, but not now. Far away. Somewhere else. Not on me. Unimportant. I slice it away, layer by layer. Peice by peice. I'm crying. Goddamnit. Laughter will help. I laugh as I slice away the skin. People notice me. They call the police. They're scared. So am I. Help me. They won't be here in time anyways.

Burn...

I can't find my heart. I need to tear it out before I die. Need to throw it in the fire. Watch it burn along with the sizzling flesh of the children.

In their eyes I see you, Alexander...

Oh, the children. How I love the children. Their choked screams and sobs of terror are drowned out by the sounds of bells. Wait. Bells. Not good. Need to hurry.

Burn...

Screams. Sobs. Cries of pain. My laughter. Fire. Crackling, popping, sizzling fire. Not enough time.

Running out of time running out of time...

Burn...

Look around look around, at how lucky we are to be alive right now...

Burn...

Helpless...

Burn...

That would be enough...

I'm watching it-

Not enough time. My heart will have to burn with the rest of me. With the last of my strength, I hurl myself forward. Into the fire. Bodies are only temporary anyways.

Burn...

The sweet, sweet warmth of the fire. Slowly licking away at my remaining flesh.

Burn...

Screams. They're mine this time. I don't mind though.

Burn...

Dark. Safe. Warm. Free. Finally.

Oh wow, that was bad. I probably shouldn't have published it... oops.