Pyromaniac // C.H

Chapter 2

Calum

I remember that night like it was yesterday. I stood in front of my childhood home in Australia, it was abandoned now. No one moved in after my family had left. I grew up in this home. This is where I took my first steps and and spoke my first words. So many memories trapped inside of there.

But this is also the house where my family fell apart.

This is where I came home from school to find my dad in bed with another woman. This is where I came home to countless fights between my parents. This is where I came home to find my dad leaving in a truck with all of his belongings in boxes, shoved to the back.

This is where my life changed completely.

I was about 16 when all of it happened. My dad abandoned us and left my mother, my sister, and I alone and confused.

I was a good kid before then, always went to school, got good grades, never got in trouble. Soon after, I felt myself spiralling down. I hit an intense depression and shut everyone out. I began sneaking around and not going to school. I began failing my classes until I eventually dropped out at 17.

Nothing gave me comfort anymore. I was alone no matter where I was. I tried offing myself multiple times but couldn't bring myself to do it. My mom actually walked in on me one time. What a sight it must have been, to see her son finally break.

I tried self harm, I tried binge drinking, I tried narcotics. I tried it all. Nothing seemed to get rid of the pain.

Except for fire.

I remember how it felt the first time I truly watched something catch fire. I was messing around with my lighter one day and decided to burn a piece of paper. It was mesmerizing, the way the flame would dance across the page. I became enthralled by it all. I soon began to set fire to other things, books, magazines, random pieces of wood. Then it escalated to bigger things, things that held purpose. Photos of my father, books he had read to me as a child, letters he sent me which held no meaning.

But it was never about destruction. I never set fires to destroy things. I set fires to feel release, to feel like I could move on and start over. That's why I was at my old home that night.

I stared at the abandoned house and wondered why no one ever moved in after us. But who would really want to if they knew how broken it was. I walked the perimeter, surveying the area and recounting old memories. I finally walked around to the front and tried the front door but it was locked. I guess I would have to do this from the outside.

I took off my backpack and heard the clinking of liquor bottles hitting against each other. I had three large bottles of Vodka and a tiny one for myself. I pulled out the rags from the front pocket and began to assemble three molotovs. I opened each bottle, poured a little bit of liquor on each rag and stuffed them inside the bottles. I took my lighter from my jeans pocket and lit the end of one of the rags and chucked the bottle through a window. It immediately exploded and the fire began.

I did the same with the other two, throwing them into random parts of the house until the whole unit was ablaze. I stood back in awe of that moment. I had finally done it. I watched the flames engulf the house, leaving a smile on my face.

I took a swig from the small bottle of Vodka I had saved for myself and coughed from the burning sensation. Tonight was nice. But it didn't give me that major sense of closure I had hoped for. I had release, yes. But I lacked closure.

I sighed and began to walk away, but before I could leave with out anyone noticing, two police cars showed up in front of the house with their lights flashing and sirens blaring. I tried to make a run for it. I ran until I couldn't breathe and my legs were aching. I eventually collapsed and blacked out.

When I came to, I was in a room with no windows and only one door. God, they must have thought I was crazy or something and locked me away. Soon after I woke up, my mom and a doctor walked into the room.

She had a sad smile on her face, like something was wrong and she was trying to hide it. I decided to speak up, "Mom, why am I here?" She sighed and said, "Your choices were being sentenced to five years in prison or going to a mental rehabilitation facility."

My jaw dropped, "So what, you think I'm crazy now??"

"No sweetie, it's not that. It's just that-"

"You think I should be locked away, don't you? Don't you?!" I raised my voice at her in agitation, I never did that.

"Tomorrow, you're getting on a plane to America to check in at Grace Point. They're going to be of much more help than me."

Tears threatened to spill from my eyes, my mom was shipping me off to another continent to rot because I set one little house fire...God, she must think I was seriously messed up or something.

Before I knew it, I was with my mom on a plane to the home of the free, and apparently the mentally insane, too.

The first day at Grace Point was a blur, I tried my best to shut it all out. The days all seemed to bleed together, it didn't seem like they could "help" me at all. I thought this place was hell. That is, until she checked in.

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And there you have it! Chapter 2!! Wow, 2 updates in 1 day, whaaaaatt. Honestly, so far, this book is so fun to write and I hope you guys are enjoying it!