Fire Tears

3.

3.

"You murderer.." A shiver crawled up my spine, and I sat up in bed. I looked around me and it didn't seem like anything had changed.

"Aww shit.." I muttered 

to myself. 

"You killed us.." Another shiver crawled up my spine.

"I'm sorry." I whispered.

The voice was back. "You can't change the past Wyatt..you killed us.."

A piercing shriek rang through my head. "Fuck!" I yelled, as another sharp pain hit me.

"Dead.. All dead.." The voice whispered to me again.

"Goddamn it, leave me alone!!" I dropped to my knees, my mind ringing. "I know I killed them! It's all my fucking fault!!"

I knew no amount of words was going to bring them back though. I stood up slowly, gripping the side of my bed for support. Someone screamed again and this time I felt as if knives were being run through my head.  "Shit!!" I loudly whispered to myself, falling back down. My head hurt like a bitch. I couldn't help cursing. I stumbled to my bathroom, splashing cold water against my face. As I glanced to the mirror, I suddenly saw someone in the reflection behind me. I slowly moved my hand to the mirror, looking curiously at it. 

I spun around, but when I turned back to the mirror, the silhouette was gone. The ghosts from the past refused to stop haunting me. Perhaps I was just going crazy. I knew how guilty I felt, and also knew I deserved this because it was my fault. I didn't know how and I still wasn't completely sure of what happened that night, but I knew somehow, that it was my fault. The authorities later told me that the fire was an accident and that someone had simply forgotten to turn off the stove, but I just couldn't shake the feeling that I was the one who ignited it. My only escape now was everything I would have instantly turned down a couple months ago. 

I drank myself to sleep almost every night, for when I was intoxicated, the ghosts would fade back into the walls and there would be no blades cutting into my mind. I knew it was unhealthy and that I was slowly destroying myself, but I couldn't help keeping a distance from the few friends I had, so they were all just about gone as well. My aunt tried to cope with me and tried her best to understand , but me, being the stubborn kid that I am, won't let anyone come near my mind. As emo as it sounded, I was pretty much alone now.

I walked back to my room, grabbing the bottle of vodka stashed under my bed. I needed to get out of the house, and I needed to get out fast. I took a swig from the bottle, then shoved it in my backpack along with some other things. 

I slipped quietly downstairs to the kitchen, careful not to step on that one creaky step, where I grabbed my keys. My aunt seemed to be a sound sleeper and never once had I ever got caught, so I wasn't too worried. I drove an old pickup truck, one of the few things I still had from my old life.

I gently crept past my aunts room and opened the front door. I heard the lock click behind me, and I headed to my truck. After getting in, I pulled out my bottle and took another drink, enjoying the way the alcohol burned down my throat. 

"Almost like a fire.."

I slammed on the brakes, looking around in fear. That was something I didn't want to think about at the moment. 

After about an hour I ended up at my favorite spot. It was a quiet picnic place in the mountains. I silently thanked my dad for getting me a truck. No other vehicle would be able to pull off a climb like this. I drove a bit more up, stopping at the very top of a cliff. There, I parked and stepped out into the cool breeze.