dangerously close

prologue | gasoline

A L E X I A M A R I N O

- a few years ago -

A sociopath is someone with no regrets for others' rights or feelings. Lack of empathy and remorse for wrongdoings. Having the need to exploit and manipulate for their personal gain by using either intelligence, charm and or charisma. Threatening suicide to manipulate without intentions on actually acting it out.

The clinical definition being Antisocial Personality Disorder, also known as ASPD.

A sociopath, however, never truly understands their actions and what they'll lead to in the future. In other words; they just don't care. And that's who I spent most of my life with, who I wasted so much of my energy on that it's completely drained me. A sociopath who so happens to be my father.

I take a bite out of my Salami and Mozzarella sandwich as I empty the jerrycan onto the carpet while walking backwards down the stairs. I place the empty can on the counter and finish the soft part of my sandwich before throwing the crust on the plate.

The smell of gasoline fills my lungs and I smile to myself, taking a seat on the couch. Letting the taste of cheese, tomatoes, salami and bread linger in my mouth I look around the abandoned house.

He sure did leave a lot of their things when they moved. The house hadn't been cleaned in a while, which you could tell from all the dust surrounding it.

The sofa was broken on one side yet looking brand new on the other. The TV in front of me had a huge hole just to the left of the centre. By the way the hole formed, I know it was a fist that caused it.

Oh the memories of his fist. They just lighten my day up— the same way I'm about to light this place up.

I reach forward to the wooden table and grab a cigarette. Placing it in between my mouth, I cover the end of the cigarette and light it on fire with one of my matchsticks. The sound that the match head makes when it rubs against the rough strip is music to my ears.

I take a few seconds to watch the flame burn. There's just something about fire that's so... fascinating. The power it has to destroy anything that's remotely close to its path. That's what I want to be. Just like fire.

Instead of waving the stick around in the air to light it out, I throw it in the small puddle of gasoline I had previously made and watch as the fire spreads around the carpet, travelling up the stairs in only a matter of seconds.

That's payback for what you did to me! Have fun cleaning this mess up.

I feel the head around me grow as I continue to smoke the cigarette. After a while of sitting, I stand up once again and walk around the fire. Back in the kitchen, where I had made the sandwich I was eating, I grabbed the fourth and final jerrycan filled with untouched gasoline as well as the second half of my sandwich.

Ripping another bite off with my teeth, I lift the can and walk around the fire, making sure it's nowhere near the burning flames. I make my way towards the big, bulky front door that I kind of struggled to open.

Holding the jerrycan upside down, I watch as the liquid creates a beautiful puddle in front of me and smile to myself.

Locking the door with the key that was left under the carpet outside, I walk down the pathway to the gate.