two of a kind

01

𝓐𝓭𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓲𝓭𝓮

All because I met him.

Here I am standing on this ledge all because I met him.

Here I am inching closer to the end all because I met him.

Pain, all I can feel is pain. But I feel free.

I peek over the railings of the bridge. There it is, floating towards the shore. His body all bloated and discoloured. Totally unrecognisable already. Another one off the list. Rest in peace, Father.

I really hate having to be the one to do this but sometimes some people don't deserve to live, and somehow are living their best life. I'm not a killer, I just believe in consequences. I was the one made to face their consequences.

They were already moving closer to hell day by day, all I did was make hell come towards them.

It's mid July, the body must decompose in a day or two. I turn back to leave but my overthinking ass cannot leave unless I leave the body totally undiscoverable. I roll my eyes and make my way under the bridge, where the corpse of what once was my father lies, lifeless. I take out the matchsticks from my duffel bag. I drag the match head across the striker to light the match. I drop it on the corpse and push it back towards the water. How much heavier could he get. I leave a long breath I didnt know I had been holding, as it floats away.

"Not bad." A voice from behind me says.

I freeze. I hear footsteps coming closer from behind me. A chill runs up my spine. Who ever could be on this abandoned bridge past midnight. I've never seen anyone here ever. Who could've followed me? How are they not running away from me and calling the cops on me? How much have they seen? More than enough for sure.

'THINK ADELAIDE THINK.' the voice in my head screams.

I look down slowly at the matchbox in my hand. I sigh out of relief. I could set him on fire I guess. Something's better than nothing.

The footsteps comes to a stop indicating he's close enough for me to attack. I take a deep breath, keeping the match and box in position so I can light it as soon as I face the stranger. I find my non believing ass praying to a superior being to let the match light up in the first try. Though with my experience with fire, it has to.

I hear a little shift behind me. He must be taking out a weapon. I have to act now. I turn back faster than light, dragging the match across the striker, bringing it up to the stranger's face. The darkest blue eyes stare back at mine.

"Oh. Thank you," He lights his cigarette from the flame I just created as a weapon against him.

'UM SORRY WHAT,' my head screams as my eyebrows furrow at him.

"...for the flame, couldn't find my lighter there." he continues, discerning my confusion.

I stand still, dumbfounded, the match still burning in my hands. Who is this guy? How the fuck did he find me? Most of all, why is he not questioning what he must've seen?

"You know that match is gonna burn your hand, right?" he furrows his eyebrows as he taken another drag of smoke.

I can't get any words out. I open my mouth to talk but nothing comes out. What the fuck is wrong with me? I study his face. Who the hell is he? He looks about 21, about 3ish years older to me, I'm turning 18 in a few days. There're so many questions, so many thoughts rushing through my head. I can feel his eyes on me, taking note of every move, every expression.