Bugs || Malia Tate

7. Grand Theft Liam.

He was dead.

At least that's what he felt, he felt dead. He felt nothing, not even the scorching hot water that cascaded down his back, soaking every other part of him as he stayed completely. All of it was a meshed blur to him as his mind continued to reel from what had happened that night. He didn't believe turning it back on was good, remembering it all with a sense of clarity would not do him justice... the only problem was he wanted to feel broken, he wanted to feel the pain and the disgust.

Bugs Stilinski wanted to feel everything he had repressed.

All of it came barreling at him, shattering the very insides of his conscious and ripping every little piece that made him good to shreds. He continued to replay it, even though all of it repeatedly destroyed him. He remembered it all, brief flickers of the night going through his head as he watched the hot water swirl around his feet. It carried every drop of sweat, every emotion, every action that had happened. The tainted water was yet another reminder of what had happened.

It was dead silent, not a dog barking outside his small home or the snores of his father to accompany him, yet inside his head it felt like he couldn't get a straight thought.

It was getting light, the sunlight pressing through the small window above his head. Therefore it meant one of two things, his father would coming home or he would have to leave for school, neither of which could happen before Bugs had a chance to finish.

Minutes later the teenager boy was watching as the flames licked at the pile in the center, the smell of burning wood attaching itself to his wet hair. The flames flared out, inches from the unmoving Bugs as he watched the pile burn away. He was still numb, oblivious to the fact his lips were turning blue and his hands had began to shake. No, none of that mattered and it would not matter until the pile was completely burned and all that was left were ashes. Those ashes would blow away, erasing that evidence, the way Bugs hoped to rid himself of the memory.