The Worst Day Of My Life
"I honestly can't cook for shit" Billie mumbled, tapping a whisk against the table. It took me a while to fully process her words because I was too busy cooking and she was speaking so low. She had been acting strange lately, like when we had first met, but more distant, more into herself and her new journal.
"Well. That's why I'm here." I smiled, shooting her a cheesy wink. Billie nodded and pulled out a small glass bottle. One with a cork on it. It was fairytale like, I remember thinking it was pretty. She kept twisting it in her hands. Over and over.
I learned to stop asking questions when she was quiet like that. So I didn't ask, and she didn't say anything. I was trying to make an omelette, because Billie wasn't hungry for anything besides her stupid vegan cupcakes that were in the oven.
So, I turned on the stove. And the entire fucking thing caught on fire. The entire stove. I didn't understand what was going on. I screamed and went to get water, and Billie just walked up to it and stared.
"Fire is so pretty" she chuckled "If I jump in, would everything stop?"
You see, this is when I realized one of two things would happen, I would die- or she would die. The fire was spreading fast, the countertops being made of wood and all that. Genuis idea, mom. Wood right next to fire.
I didn't reply to her, I only put water on the fire that was now spreading into my living room. My mom wasn't home, and I was really panicking at this point. My best bet was to call the fire department, but Billie grabbed me and shoved me against the stove. This is where the burn scar on my lower back comes from.
"I'm not insane. But what if we-"
I wasn't having any of it. I pushed her off me and ran to get my phone. It was terrifying and I'm missing out on so many details because everything happened so quickly. People say that time slows down in traumatic situations, but I felt like everything just happened all at once. She ended up chasing me and she had me in some sort of hold? I think her arms were around my neck and she slammed me into the floor or something.
Anyways, she had me under her, sitting on my waist. She was trying to tell me about ... suffering.. and something about being together. If we were to perish like this, I'd be a good thing. Romantic, almost. I asked her what the hell she meant and told her now isn't the time and she told me she was going to die anyways because she took a ton of pills.
I reached up and yanked her by the hair to get off me. The entire house was on fire, I could hear sirens outside because I'm assuming someone else called, and I could barely breathe. I was hyperventilating and taking in a lot of smoke- nothing was making any sense.
Billie collapsed. And she didn't move at all after that. I passed out shortly after, and that's that. I haven't seen or heard from Billie since. There was a funeral. She's gone, and I'm not.