Adam's Apple Pie

Twenty-Two - My Last Day

"Hey, Rachel?" I said through a light breath. "Can you do me a favour? We're out of milk."

"We are?" she said. "I thought we had a delivery come through the other day."

"Yeah, sorry about that," I replied. "One of the fridges packed up and all the milk has spoiled."

"You're joking!" Rachel gasped.

"I wish I was," I replied. "Anyway, any chance you can pop out and get some?"

"What about the café?"

"I'll look after it," I replied. "Besides, you can do with a break from Ron."

Rachel nodded, seemingly needing no further convincing after that. She opened the till and took some money out. "I'll refresh this from the petty cash later on," she said.

"Yeah, sure."

Rachel picked up her coat from behind the counter and walked away. A few steps before she disappeared from my life, I turned to her.

"Rachel?"

"Yes, Duck?"

I wanted to tell her that she was one of the good ones, that she was the only one that was nice to me, that she was the only one I considered her a friend.

"Take your time, yeah? No rush."

But I didn't think she was the sentimental type.

Rachel nodded. "Sure, see you later, Duckie."

And with that, she was gone.

I breathed in my nose again, exhaling it out through my mouth. Yeah, I was going to miss this museum.

For the last time, I went through my usual procedures, and when the time came, I locked up, ending by closing the big wooden doors at the front of the museum.

"Excuse me?"

I think someone asked me something as I walked away.

"Can you open the doors, please?"

Probably a museum patron or whatever, but I didn't hear them. At least not enough to register.

I had to attend to the boiler.

When I got down to the basement, I could see that the readings on the boiler were going crazy. Not surprising considering it hadn't been vented in so long. I could see steam bursting from it, like blood vessels bursting from skin. The temperature was like hell, and I sweat as soon as I stepped in. This should have been vented two days ago, but not it was close to breaking point.

Taking out my wrench, I stepped over the tubs of cleaning liquid that had been left down here. If Lara found out she would have a fit – considering these were flammable. The boiler hissed and roared at me as I moved closer, ready to burst any moment. All that pressure inside, bottled up and ready to explode. Never had I felt more in common with a non-living thing in my life. The steam seemed to slither out, like snakes crawling across the room.

So much anger inside, ready to be released.

I moved my spanner closer to it, sweat dripping off my forehead from the intensity. A blast of pressure nearly took my eye out and I had to look away for fear of going blind. I moved the spanner closer. Just a few turns and everything would be fixed, the boiler would be calm and everything would be back to normal.

Back to normal.

Normal. The joke of a word that described my life. As if that were a justification for all the bad things that had happened to me over the years.

Why would I want that?

I could think of a better word.

Shit.

My life was nothing but shit. Right from the moment I was shit out from my mother's womb. And all I had to look forward to now was more shit.

I gripped my spanner, moving it towards the boiler. Just a few turns and it would all be calm.

I didn't want calm. I wanted the storm.

The end of the spanner struck the boiler, causing it to roar and spew out more steam. The heat became impossible to breathe in and it was a surprise that I wasn't choking. Somehow though, I persisted, fighting back against the intense heat. I struck the boiler again, the clang of metal ringing in my ears. Steam poured out of it like water from a pipe, filling the area with thick pressure.

I was never part of this world – I saw that now. The odds were stacked against me the minute I was born.

I struck the boiler again, feeling the heat rise up to the point where it was virtually unbreathable. The hell inside was waiting to be released.

No one ever cared for me. No one ever believed in me. No one ever wanted me. I had no chance to prove myself, no hope. I was born into a world that hated me and my only existence was to justify the 'stronger race' that now laughed above me. I had nothing to go back to. Nothing to live for.

I thought that Dr Eve had been mocking me, but she had shown me the truth. I was nothing. Nothing to them.

And they are nothing to me.

I struck the boiler another time, the clang echoing the pipes now close to unleashing their fury. I only wished I could unleash my anger as much as this boiler could.

The flames inside begged to be let loose. Good. I was sick and tired of keeping all my hate inside. Sick of pandering to idiots. Sick of being nothing. Sick of it all.

Only one thought went through my mind.

Fuck it all! Fuck this museum! Fuck the people in it! Fuck the entire world!

Let it burn!

Let it all fucking burn!

One ore strike came from the spanner, and with this I put in all my rage, all my hate.

And the flames escaped from the cracked shell.

Time seemed to slow down, the flame pouring out like water. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. It was like a firework display and I was the centre of it. The flame swooped around me, drenching me in warm love. It was the most wonderful embrace I ever felt – no pain, no agony, just bliss. I closed my eyes and basked in this warmth, smiling as I felt it take my flesh.

The flame understood me, it was the only one who did.

A while ago, I was struck by a thought that I should kill myself. Who would really miss me after all?

But then I remember – they would still be here. Me leaving the world would change nothing, as they would still be living in it. Living and dictating how people should live.

Why kill myself – when I could kill them?