Sixty-Two ☼ Phan

Twenty-Three

I was not a pyromaniac.

At least, I didn't consider myself to be.

Growing up, I never had any strange fascination with fire. I never enjoyed the idea of burning things, never even tried. There was no connection, no mental reciprocity between the two of us.

I don't know why I tried to burn my house down that night. When I did it, it was terrifying. Because I wasn't thinking. I wasn't considering the fact that setting that fire could have killed me. Could have killed my whole family. It was as if I just snapped. I wanted the whole world to burn for the death of my dad. I wanted them all to see every shade of red, every primitive hue that blazed through my head.

Maybe I did consider the fact it could have killed me, then. That it could have killed my mom. Aden and Leo. That night was all so blurry, looking back, as if through a pair of thick glasses prescribed to another person. It was wrenched into different directions, braided and pulled and yanked at so much that the final picture was nothing but distortion.

If I would have gotten further, would have actually burned that place to the ground, would it really have done any good, though? Probably not.

So, what's the point, then? Of burning things?

That's just it. There is none.

Fire is uncontrollable. No matter how hard you try, it will never just do what you want. Even in a lighter, it won't still. It will always move, squirm until it can consume and destory as much as possible. It cannot be tamed, and there's a beauty in that. There's a beauty in turning on the switch to something that will never stop alone.

And the colors. I really do hate those colors.

But we live to make ourselves suffer. So I will continue to burn, if not other things, then myself. Because once you set a fire, it doesn't stop. The damage is eternal, and lives on even when you no longer do.

Not unless it's put it out. And how am I supposed to put out something that nobody else can see? Something that's inside of me?

"You want to what?"

Phil and I stood together in front of James, Chris, and Peej. The cabin door was closed, and the moon was shining in the sky, sun vanished beneath the horizon and leaving only shadows to surround us.

"Tomorrow, we leave," I said. "First thing in the morning."

"Yeah." Chris shifted his weight from one leg to the other. "What about it?"

"Do you really want it to end like this?"

"End like what?"

"With a dud," Phil answered for me.

Eyes turned to him.

"You're influencing this?" James asked.

Phil shrugged. "Why not?"

"I can think of ten thousand reasons why not," Peej disagreed. "And ten thousand is a lot."

"What if someone gets hurt?" Chris added.

"That won't happen," I told him.

"But what if it does?" he asked again.