𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

𝟎𝟖 | 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭

Micheal

          The loud wail of sirens from ambulances and firetrucks echoed through the air, all undoubtedly racing towards the burning restaurant down the street. I'm sure my brother was just told that I burnt down his restaurant, so he'll probably be back over here in about twenty minutes. How the hell can he demand that I come to New York, and then when I make it down here, he leaves me stranded for some girl?

Fallen leaves loudly cracked underneath my feet as I sat down on the ground, the bark of the tree that I leaned against slightly lifting up the back of my shirt. I took my wallet out of my pocket and a small plastic bag out of the other, placing both items in my lap. My hands failed to stay steady as I slowly poured the powdery white substance onto the top of the gift card that I took from the bookstore. Running my hand over my mouth, I examined scattered drug.

Cocaine was something bad that I did but it wasn't like I couldn't live without it, therefore I wouldn't name it an addiction.

More like a hobby,

I began to align the substance in a line with a paper that some girl had given me with her number on it.

My fingers wipe the tip of my nose before they went to hold onto the side of it. With the best of my ability I brought the card up to my face, trying my best to not spill the substance with my shaking hands. A low breath escaped my lips as my heavy eyes fluttered shut. I get that rush coursing through me as I snort that line off the flimsy card; my heart beats faster, but I can't feel it. I sniffled, throwing my head back against the tree and bobbing my Adam's apple.

I'm a clinical person, and I have no problem admitting that to anyone. So, there was really no guilt in my body for burning down my brother's restaurant; if anything, I almost found it funny. The way the flames danced and consumed everything in their path was almost mesmerizing. I know it sounds twisted, but in that moment, I felt a strange sense of satisfaction. The sight of fire has always captivated me. The way it flickers and dances, the warmth it radiates, and the power it holds—it's like watching a living, breathing entity. Fire has this primal allure that's hard to resist, almost like it has a life of its own.

I liked fire.

A gruff groan escaped my lips as I lowered my head to snort another line, but suddenly, an uncomfortable feeling washed over me—I felt like I was being watched.

If there was someone watching me, I swear to God I'd make them think twice about invading someone's privacy again.

Slowly, my eyes lift from the substance in my lap, and there she is, about ten feet away, standing as expected. She had these beautiful brown eyes with large, expressive pupils, reminiscent of a baby deer's. They were deep and enchanting, drawing you in with their innocent yet intense gaze. The way they shimmered in the light made them look almost like polished amber, full of warmth. Behind them were this look of shock, almost as if she was trying to register what I was doing.

The girl looked like she could be in the same age range as me, though she was clearly a year or two younger. In that moment, I was under the impression that either I was in a psychotic episode or the substance I had used earlier was getting to me, because there was no way that someone who looked like her couldn't be a hallucination. There were details about her face that I expected an angel to have; she was perfect. She even seemed to have this surreal white glow bouncing off of her body, making her appear almost ethereal. She embodied a beauty that seemed to transcend the human realm, making her appear almost divine.

"Can I help you?" The sharpness in my voice makes the girl in front of me flinch, almost like she'd never been yelled at.

Her plump lips parted, but no sound escaped from them.