Undead

11; alone [pt 1]

Chris

Everything that I am, everything that I was, burned up in that fire. There was nothing left for me or in me - I was an empty shell going through the motions of living this life. I felt like a zombie, just enough brain power to keep me alive but not enough juice to do anything else.

Aside from the realization that my shop was gone, something else was heavy on my heart. Never in my life did I ever think I would actually do what I did, and now that it had actually happened I didn't know what to do with myself. It was an accident, anybody with eyes could see that, but that didn't stop the guilt that had me wanting to rip my hair from the roots. I put my hands on my girlfriend. Even worse, I made her fall.

More than anything, I was embarrassed. I let my anger get the best of me when that's what I was working on at rehab. All those breathing exercises, every second of those therapy sessions didn't mean a damn thing in that moment, and for that I would never forgive myself. Even if she forgave me, which I knew she already did, I wouldn't.

My own stench was nauseating, but I hadn't been home in days. Sweat, my tears, dried blood on my knuckles from taking my anger out on a brick wall. All of these smells followed me wherever I went, but I didn't want to go home just yet. I needed this time away for myself to accept what happened and to figure out what to do next. I thought about staying home when I went to return Akila's car and exchange it for mine, but I knew that would only make things worse. I didn't want to talk to anyone, and I didn't want to see my own family - not even my girlfriend.

The shopping strip where my shop used to be was practically deserted except for myself. The neighboring businesses were closed with minimal damage, but my shop was the lucky one to take all the damage. All that remained was a blackened shell with an unstable interior; it mirrored how I felt. I was shaking just sitting in my parked car right in front of it, and I bit my lip against the vomit that threatened to come up.

I closed my eyes and inhaled a shaky breath, holding it for five seconds, then exhaling like I'd been taught. The realization that my life had taken a turn for the worse was crippling, but I got out of the car anyway.

The windows and front entrance were boarded up with planks of wood and yellow police tape, but one touch told me the wood wasn't reinforced. One gentle movement and it fell into my palms. I tossed it away and shoved my trembling hands in my pockets. The smell of ash was the straw that broke the camel's back; I bent over and dry-heaved onto the sidewalk, wiping my lips with the back of my palm.

I quickly spun on my heels when I heard footsteps, a chill shaking me to my core, but I didn't see anybody around. "Hello?"

I didn't get an answer, and I crept further inside the building. Charred debris crunched under my footsteps, and I stopped short to see if there was any hope in bringing this back to life. But the deafening silence crushed any dream I had. There was nothing left.

I forced myself to keep from crying yet again, and I trudged across the floor to the back room. It got darker the further I went.

I heard more footsteps. I was already at a disadvantage because my eyes blurred with tears, but spinning so quickly made me dizzy and I almost lost my balance. "Who's in here?" I called out steadily.

I've obviously overstayed my welcome, I told myself.

I took a running start towards the exit, wanting to get far away from this hellhole, but it seemed so far away at that moment; it felt like I just kept running and running. As luck would have it, I wouldn't make it out. Somewhere along the way, I tripped over some debris that I hadn't seen before and fell face first onto the ground, coughing as a cloud of ashes flew up around me. I choked for air but kept my eyes shut.