Burning my school ID was the first thing I did. I felt free, or, as free as you can in the middle of playground sand. I put my busted-up blue lighter in the pocket of my jeans, staring down at the flames that were illuminating my face in the dark night of Oklahoma. I wouldn't be missing it. A voice in my head kept saying what I was doing was wrong somehow, but who it was talking to, I don't know. I wasn't listening.
I stood up, stomping out the flames. I picked up the blue, now black, pieces of fabric that were holding the now melted ID and carried it under the slide that was definitely some kind of code violation. Sitting down on my knees, I made a hole, put my destroyed ID in there, and buried it. As I stare at the hole like what's buried underneath will jump back out at me, I think. I think about what I'm doing for the first time in what feels like years. But, somehow, as I think about who I'm leaving behind, who'll miss me, who'll search and search and search for me, I don't care.
Sure, I'm not heartless. I still have some guilt, but I don't think it's the kind people look for when this kind of thing happens. Whatever, I'm done thinking. Picking myself up, I head towards the swings. The combination of soft winds and the cold temperature makes my face turn a light shade of red, I guess I'll miss that. I sit on the rusted swing, kicking my legs back and forth slowly. I take in my surroundings for probably the last time, looking at everything like a dog seeing his reflection for the first time. I look at everything I always overlook. The green trees, that one girl in the high ponytail on her night run, the house in the distance that seems to have a party every night, and then in the direction of my house.
That doesn't sound right anymore. It won't be my house after tomorrow. I feel something wet run down my cheeks, subconscious crying that I had no idea washed over me. I feel sick, I feel alone, I don't feel right. But it's okay, it's normal. I'll have a new life. I'll start my new life and I'll be fine. I look back to the house with the flashing lights, seeing multiple people come and go. It's a wonderful reminder that this'll be simple. I wipe the tears that have fallen on numb skin and head in the direction of the party. After this party, I tell myself, I'll pack a bag and leave for good.
I get to the house in almost record time, walking into the opened double doors. The lights and the noise make me want to vomit, so I head over to the kitchen to get some laid out punch. I pour myself a glass and drink it, immediately tasting the alcohol inside. I look around the party, seeing everyone from my school. I check the time and I estimate that I have two hours to be here. I head outside, sitting down by the pool. Chugging the rest of the punch, I head over to the hot tub, throwing the cup inside. There's no way I'm spending two hours at a party with people I don't even like. I go back inside to find the open door. I sift through the mountain of people, rushing towards the door. Between the ringing in my ears, I can hear the loud, deafening music, but I don't turn back. I exit the house, full on running back towards my own.
YOU ARE READING
Fire with Fire
Random"Burning my school ID was the first thing I did." Thomas Riley was only 15 years old when he had run away for seemingly no reason. He ends up in Arcola, Illinois, with nothing but hopes and his dying self-confidence. Oh, and knowledge of a homeless...
