Ecstasy

Chapter 56

Tyson:

Don't leave me, she said. It was as if she knew it was coming. I sighed. The sun was completely off the horizon now, making its trek across the blue sky, the street was empty. I couldn't stay there. When I woke this morning I knew I couldn't.

Calla was still asleep. Her blonde hair fanned out around her, messy and glowing in the rising sun. The sheet of the bed was pushed down to her waist so I could see her naked torso, her milky white skin shining. It was wrong. It was so wrong for me to be there. What the hell was I thinking? What the fuck was I doing?

I paused in my steps, taking hold of the street lamp near by, leaning over, trying to breathe. My throat felt like it was closing shut, I struggled to take a breath. It was a mistake, a horrible, beautiful, wonderful mistake and I could never forgive myself.

I wasn't right for her. I was never right for her.

I was walking briskly now. My own house in sight at the end of the street. I could hear the rush of the wind through the sugar cane, behind the line of houses.

It loomed in the distance like a ghost, like a predator. Grey and slate. The porch stairs creaky, the door stiff. Before I knew it I was inside. Standing in front of the staircase. My eyes travelling up the stairs to my room. My feet making their way, step by step. I was locking the door, pulling the chain across, sitting on my bed, my head in my hands.

"Fuck." I breathed. "Fuck, fuck!" I kicked the bedside table. The things a top of it rattled. A photo frame collapsed. Fell off the table top and crashed to the floor. The glass splintered, cracked, but didn't shatter. I bent over to pick up the frame.

It was old. A long forgotten photo. I swiped the dust off the cracked glass, narrowly avoiding pricking my finger.

A woman stared back at me, smiling. White blonde hair glinting in the sunlight of the past. Her arm wound around the chest of a young boy. Me. I sighed again. I wished she were here. Alive. Sitting next to me.

But no. I don't wish that. If she were here she would be dead inside. Her soul beaten into a decaying state, by the monster downstairs. I frowned. Tears pricked my eyes. I blinked them away.

Suddenly the words of yesterday rung through me.

"I'll never be like you."

And his laugh sick and ugly. "You already are, boy."

Suddenly I stood up. What was I doing?

"Crap!" I almost shouted.

Wrenching open the door, I almost forgot to put the photo frame down. I skipped down the stairs two at a time and slammed the front door behind me.

I was not him. I will never be him.

I had to get back to Calla before she woke up. I started jogging. I would have to run, it took me half an hour to walk all the way home.

I couldn't stop chastising myself. The guilt and grief turning over in my mind. Although I had similar feelings on the walk home, this time they were for a different reason. You are such an idiot! Fucking up the one good thing you had.

I couldn't believe I had done it. Walked out on her. Suddenly I realised: I was not the same person as I was when I met her. She had changed me. I was better.

And now I had jeopardised it all. Gone back to the old me. A brief and stupid monumental mistake.

The cold morning air was leaching into my skin, biting at my spine. I shivered. I had forgotten my jacket. Left it at home on my bed. I should text her or call her. I felt around in my pockets, all I could find was my wallet.