𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐨𝐧 | b.k.

Chapter Thirty

30.
Chapter Thirty : Dark

The L/n's house is dark. It's late—well past two am—and everyone is asleep. Nobody hears when the front door softly slams against the doorframe, and nobody hears the sound of the old floorboards creaking. Nobody except for the puppy, who jumps up to investigate the second someone steps inside. He sniffs at the stranger's boots and yaps, jumping up on his legs to paw at his denim jeans. The stranger gently shoos him away and keeps walking through the house.

Down the hall and making a slow turn into another part of the house. It's dark, but he can see perfectly fine. He can see the bright white door hiding the reason behind his pain.

The stranger stops in his tracks and turns his head to look back down the hall. He strains his ears to see if he can hear any movement in the boss—any movement besides the pitter patters made by the puppy playing in the parlor. The coast is clear.

The floorboards creak under his weight as he walks towards the door. He only stops when he's within an inch of the barrier. His hand raises to rest on the doorknob and with the gentle turn of his wrist, he turns the doorknob and pushes it in, revealing the dark room.

The man can clearly see a lump lying in the bed pushed in the far corner of the room. His boots suddenly feel like they weigh a ton. There's sweat dripping down his forehead and his heart is stuttering.

He came here to do one job, but he suddenly feels so guilty. He hasn't even done anything yet and he already feels like a sinner in church. Maybe this was a bad idea. He begins to think as he watches the figure breathe.

The intruder takes a look behind him, back down the hall he just walked down. He's come this far, he might as well get it over with. Right?

He takes cautious steps towards the bed, his fingers balling up into fists and his nails digging into the palm of his hand. He comes to a stop at the edge of the bed and his eyes wander down the length of the lump tucked beneath the covers. He's snoring peacefully.

The man hesitates. If he does this, there's no turning back. And if he does this, this could backfire heavily.

But then he thinks—just for a moment—what if it doesn't backfire? What if everything plays out just as he's hoping? And that's enough for him.

The man straightens his back and clears his throat. He walks away from the bed and over towards the windows, reaching up to touch the soft curtains. In an instance, within the blink of an eye, the curtains catch fire.

They go up in pretty orange flames, and they spread. The flames dance up the curtains and onto the wall, spreading faster than influenza. The man takes a few steps back to watch the fire engulf the room. It eats everything—clinging onto the wallpaper and nipping at the wooden furniture.

The room begins to warm up and soon it's so bright he doesn't have to squint to see anything. After he takes a second to admire the flames, the man turns on his heel and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

He contemplates locking the door or pushing something up under the handle, but he decides against it in favor of providing a little bit of security when the sleeping man eventually wakes up. The arsonist lifts his hand to touch the wall and without much thought, the tips of his fingers light the wallpaper on fire. It takes a minute to spread, but soon the hallway is unrecognizable; hidden behind layers of dancing flames.

As he walks through the house towards the backyard, he sets random things ablaze to make sure it spreads.

At first, he was only going to set fire to the one room. But something in him decided to take it a few steps further.

He pushes open the back door and walks out onto the porch, the wood groaning beneath his boots. He makes his way down the back stairs and into the backyard. When he's a good distance away, he turns around to take a good look at the building.

A small part of his heart aches as he watches fire dance behind the windows, lighting up the night. He used to admire the architecture of this fine house, and now he was the one burning it to the ground. He frowns at that realization, but he makes a silent promise to himself to rebuild it. He'll rebuild it just for her.