There, Carson sat with me at the police station.
Why we were here? I had no idea.
Certainly it was an electrical malfunction that caused the fire. Or maybe my clumsy mother left the tea kettle on and accidentally threw the handkerchief my father had gotten her—as a gift—onto the heated stove.
Out of all the scenarios that ran rancid through my head. I chose to believe the filthy handkerchief was the culprit.
I didn't want to believe that it was Arson. Who would intentionally try to kill my mother? She wasn't a bother to anyone.
The bell of the police door rang, just like how the Diner bell rung before an imaginary shooter stepped in. On instinct, I shut my eyes. But the gunshots never rung through my ears.
Just the sound of a man's voice.
"Grace."
A voice that sounded so familiar. A voice that went into hiding 84 months, 17 days, and 8 hours ago.
Looking up, I expected my eyes to deceive me.
"Where have you been?"
The pitiful emotions didn't wash themselves from my face. Disgust, Pain, Sadness, Anger. It all hit me. All at once.
I shot up an thumped him in the shoulder.
"Where were you!" My booming voice carried across the police station, and made some officers stand at attention.
Behind me, Carson was quiet.
"Grace calm down."
"YOU LEFT. You left me and mom alone for 7 years! 7 YEARS!"
I couldn't hold myself back. I couldn't force to suppress myself.
Then there was retaliation.
A hard, harsh slap across his face; was all he got in exchange for 7 years of my life that he missed.
He rubbed the spot of impact.
Right away, his cheek turned red and tears formed in his eyes.
I had just slapped my own father. And felt little to no remorse.
"Go. Away!"
Charging towards the doors, I pushed them open and stood outside.
The cool Autumn air invited me. I needed space to properly breath.
Carson soon joined me outside.
"For 7 years. He had me thinking he was dead. I thought--I thought he was dead. That asshole."
My cheeks were wet with salty tears. They leaked into the corners of my mouth, it tasted like sea water.
Carson's hand snaked around my waist and he pulled me into a hug.
He had no words, but actions were still valid.
"How can he make up for years lost?"
Carson held me tighter.
"I know. But at least he came."
I released him. Feeling instantly betrayed.
"I don't want him here. I don't want to see his face, he's dead."
Convincing myself that he wasn't really here, that it was all apart of my Paranoia.
"You can't hit something that isn't there." he mentioned.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
"It's just a dream. I guarantee you, maybe we've never met. What if this is a segment of my imagination as well?"
YOU ARE READING
Pyromaniac
Mystery / ThrillerA girl, who's trapped in her own thoughts. She can't trust as many people as she used to....now that her dad's gone. She's stuck with her depression. A boy, who's obsessed with fire. People call him, The Pyromaniac. His father isn't to be trusted...
