Fix Me [h.s]

12

Phoenix's POV

Feeling the urge to stand up, I unhooked Harry's arm from my shoulder and watched as his face scrunched up slightly and he opened his eyes. A lazy smile was plastered on his face, and I returned the expression.

"Isn't it crazy how freeing this experience is? We're alone in this place we know nothing about yet I don't feel scared... Or worried. I feel relaxed despite the fact that we're sitting in a building which I'm pretty sure was used for satanic rituals," Harry gestured at the walls which held strange drawings of a demonic nature.

"This is what life should be about, exploring new places and living a little," my voice was oddly despondent, and for some reason I couldn't muster up the same excitement as Harry.

He raised his eyebrow at me before closing his eyes again, whistling a faint tune. Soon enough he was asleep again, and I stood up slowly and carefully, brushing the dirt off my clothes.

Stepping outside into the cool night air, my eyes wandered over to the smashed glass, still swimming in the contents of the bottle. At least Harry was finally curing himself, changing his life for the better. I couldn't say the same.

My fingers writhed, and I held them in fists to avoid doing something I'd regret. But I was weak, and I let my hands roam in my pockets until they found what they wanted. A lighter. One I'd stolen from Dr Smith's tent when he hadn't been watching, and something I had kept hidden from everyone.

I flicked it open, and cautiously ran my finger over it to cause a spark to ignite. My pupils dilated as the flame flickered for a second before going out, and I was faced with a moral dilemma. Should I give into the cravings inside my body?

Crouching beside the split alcohol, I placed the flame near and watched with fascination as the puddle came to life with dancing flames, contrasting with the dark night around them. The flames died out with the aid of the breeze, and I was left unsatisfied.

Looking into the abandoned building, I saw that Harry was still in a deep sleep and probably would be for a while. So I began to walk. I had no purpose, no aim, I just wanted to find something. Something I could destroy. After around twenty minutes I found myself nearing the suburbs of the derelict town; there were rows of houses lining the streets and the lights were turned out in all of them.

Walking along the sidewalk, I came across a wooden postbox with the name 'Brown' engraved on it in faded brown ink. Hastily getting out my lighter again, I looked from the postbox to my tool and then back again. There was a voice inside me telling me that to see the wooden object engulfed in flames would fuel my desire, would 'feed' me for the minute. My conscience told me that there would be consequences, but I chose to ignore that voice.

The flame appeared again in my hand, and I opened the box to find a piece of junk mail inside. No one will miss this, I thought quietly to myself. Soon the edge of the letter was burning slowly, and I placed it back inside the box, waiting for the real show to begin. Within a few minutes, I saw the whole thing burn with an orange glow.

I was so entranced by the spectacle in front of me that I almost didn't hear the man shout at me from his doorstep. In fact, I didn't react soon enough and before I could even begin to run away the collar of my jacket had been grabbed and I was facing an angry, balding man.

"What are you doing to my postbox?" The man yelled in my face, his spit landing on my cheeks.

I had no answer. What was I doing? Why did I feel like I had to do that? I let my head droop down to look at the ground, and I took the insults that came from the man's mouth. His wife soon came outside, phone in hand as she ranted to the police about the supposed 'delinquent hooligan' on their doorstep. I didn't react, I just stood there.

A car pulled up, the sirens blaring half-heartedly, and a tired looking police officer came out of his car and sighed when he took a look at me.

"I'll take it from here," the police officer said, and shooed the furious couple inside their house, "Now what's your name?"

Looking him straight in the eye, I felt an unusual wave of fear wash down my spine. My eyes caught sight of his gun sat comfortably in its holster, something I was not used to seeing. My voice got caught in my throat, and I felt the urge to cry. I, the fiery Phoenix Waters, had been cracked by some unknown emotion.

I didn't even register that I was being placed in the back of the police car until the door clicked shut, and I was almost reliving the first time the police ever caught me. I remembered the feeling of panic and helplessness, and I cursed myself for being so stupid. I could have been still laying in that room with a man who was perfectly adequate company, but I had to spoil that serenity.

I could see the smile on the police officer's face from his reflection in the mirror, and I felt slightly sick at his contentment at my fear. He was just like Dr Smith- he found pleasure in the inferiority of others. The town passed in a blur as the car raced down the empty streets, and I shrunk into the seat.

I didn't want to think about how Harry would feel when he woke up and saw that I wasn't there. What would he do? Would he feel as though I'd just left him? I imagined his face drop into a frown at my absence, and I hated the idea that I would cause him pain. Harry was one of the only people who had listened to me, who I had felt I trusted enough to tell some of my secrets to. And I just had to ruin that friendship with my actions.

How will Harry react when he wakes up and finds Phoenix missing? Where will he go? How will he react? Will this experience wake Phoenix up about her mental health?

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