detonate (ON HOLD)

Chapter Twenty Seven

"you are the coffin, and you're the reason that i can't breathe,"

A F T E R

        Destruction was something that came to me so naturally that it practically poured from my fingertips like water from a spickett. The thought taunted me from an extraordinarily young age, but up until this moment, I never truly realized how dangerous I could be. Everything I touched, everything that I had ever loved came to some sort of tragic ending that I could never quite explain. Now, my life revolved around fire. That much was known; however, I wasn't like a phoenix. I could not rise from the ashes and come out burning brighter than ever. I was the fire, and everything I ever held dear to me went up in flames. No matter how much I wanted to aid them, the only thing I was capable of was igniting them. That terrified me. The line of sanity and insanity could become blurred at any moment, and then, what would separate me from being Luke, my sweet serial killer who seemed to dominate my every thought? That seemingly meaningless idea gave me the feeling that there was screwdriver penetrating my chest cavity ― twisting my heart tighter and tighter until the inevitable moment where it would simply submit to the pain. It would relinquish its role as my lifeline ― slipping away into the nothingness of death.

        God, I needed to get out. My feet had to start tearing up the pavement beneath them and carry me away from the disaster I was living. For my entire I life, I had always been ready to run, but now, all that I had known failed me so that my fire had been frozen. My brain kept screaming out for me to wake up ― for my eyelids to flutter open and notice that everything was okay. That Luke's head was buried in the crook of my neck with his warm breath fanning the sensitive patch of skin as soft snores escaped from his agape lips. My fingertips brushing the sticky strands of his blonde hair out of his face after he had experienced some sort of trauma that was of an unexplainably high magnitude, all behind closed eyelids that hid his sad, mysterious looking eyes. I wanted to comfort and care for the boy that only held on to life for me. That same boy who never really believed in the intangible. The boy who laughed at the thought of God, saying that there was none because if there was, the world wouldn't have been chalk full of monsters. The one that I told over and over again that he was wrong because that there was a God so wonderful and giving. That there was something bigger than us. That our hearts could only beat for something bigger than we could see. And while mine beat and still continues to beat to believe that He ― that something bigger ― had something planned to show me that the world was not as horrible as it appeared, Luke's was wired differently. His heart and all of its broken pieces only beat for me, but unfortunately for both of us, loving him was never enough.

       That was the problem with a love as rouge and filled with such passionate violence as ours. We were the absolute worst for each other, and somehow, I still loved every second of the disaster we were. I loved him for all that he was. The way his lips seemed as though they were molded specifically for my skin. How his mouth always tasted like nicotine and mint toothpaste. The way he broke down the towers around my heart and completed me though I never wanted him to. He was the one that I never meant to fall in love with, but I did. He never asked me to. Not once did I tell myself to, but I did anyway. And I wanted him to return to me despite the fact that I told myself over and over again that I didn't care.

       But that boy that I craved so desperately died a long time ago. The only time I could ever see him or touch him or even love him like everything was normal again was deep within the chambers of my own tortured mind. I dreamt of his paradise, his embrace, and I never wanted to wake. I would have rathered dying in order to be by his side one last time, but then again, I never really knew whether or not he would be there waiting for me. After all, he was horrible person ― a handsome and dangerous man who decorated my body with bruises from the words he told me. The man that my mind so viciously made me remember him for his soft kisses rather than those goddamn vile words or those golden bullets that lit up my eyes like the flames in front of me at that very moment. The one who made it so that I couldn't breathe with the overwhelming amount of guilt I felt. Not just for Luke but for everyone. I should have just taken him out of the wasteland of a town in which we resided. We should have just gotten the hell out while we had the chance. But we didn't. And now, everyone had to suffer for it.