Kelly Green: After Death

Candle Light

The little flame flickered, swaying slightly as if she were tasting the air or dust. She shone with such self-entitled brilliance that not only did I immediately hate it, I also couldn't tear my eyes away. The dark of the room was both eaten and fed, as I could distinctly see the gleam on the wax and feel the warmth on my eyes, but the edges of the room were invisible as if there wasn't light at all. As my fingers moved to feel the heat, the back of my hand became the deepest shadow.

The tip of my forefinger scraped the fire for a fraction too long and the warmth became heat and the heat burned. Before even realising I swore and wafted my hand, making the bright white turn yellow for a moment. My breath caught until the flame glowed the brilliant colour again and I could turn my head and sign.

Satisfied with my check-up, I finally turned the light on. A smile tugged my lips as she was now merely a decoration rather than someone's need. I had reached the stairs before I heard the candle sizzle, but I knew the meaning and so stopped my half run, half slouch.

"I caught you,"

She couldn't see my scowl yet, but that innate smugness must have known. Slowly, with heavy feet I trudged back, my hands un-balling and re-balling into fists.

"You're awake. Good. We can go."

I was close enough now that before I could leave again she caught my finger, the one she'd burnt earlier. Her long, manicured, careful digits looked ridiculous to my small, yet calloused ones. Green eyes, like that seaweed in holiday adverts- No, the seaweed that those ugly fish live and eat and shit in, yeah like that green, scanned for that tiny red mark.

I tugged away, easily and shook my hand. I did it fast enough that you might think I had water or a bug on it. You'd be an idiot, and probably are. For a split second my hand lost its biological parts, it was simply water, magic or alien or something controlled and connected by whatever I was. Maybe my soul kept all the little water parts together, or my nervous system but don't go looking for an explanation. There isn't one. Oh, and Liz, who you've met saw. For a second her eyes stay on my hand, where my skin has become perfectly imperfect, like before she burnt me. As pompous as she is, she's self aware. Meaning she knows if I touched her while she was a flame and I a drip, she'd die.

"Can I have a few hours longer?"

"What for? I don't want to be stuck here any longer, and neither do the others. Grab your stuff."

"We could all use more rest. Even you."

No, that wasn't soft or gentle, she said it like she was accusing me, like I dragged the group around without a breath. I mean I did when I could but that was like 10% of the time. We were always 'resting' or 'hiding' when there was no point. Liz knew I hated which only made her insist more that we rest, or hide or anything but go. They were all as stubborn as me, but listened to her so I had no chance.

"Fine. Whatever."

This time I didn't prepare to run up the stairs, I simply trudged, my boots hitting the wood as heavy and miserable as I felt. Curses, threats and complaints lined every breath.

Ray was asleep on the sofa, human form, arms and legs spread all over, jaw hanging open, trainers falling off his feet. Tia was curled up on the seat, probably a dictionary in her hands. I stared dejectedly at my rucksack, ready and stocked for whenever we actually left. A sleeping bag was strapped to the top and clothes lined the inside of it, but tinned food and pots weren't the only thing buried in jeans and jackets. Spare bullets filled one of the outside pockets, and a water bottle was shoved in the other one. I suppose I could reorganize it, but that would mean battling the sleeping bag case and I was not in the mood. I let out a loud sigh and thankfully Tia heard. She threw a pillow at Ray, and he scratched his stubbly cheek. They both looked expectantly.

I scanned the room for a place to dramatically fall, and planned my response. The room was cosy, in a way where five people don't really fit. Our stuff had become a carpet and dust already coated random things.

"She's fine." I itched my finger and continued pacing the room. "Although she wants more rest."

"Do you reckon we have time?" Ray asked, his voice groggy.

"I dunno, I think we should already be there."

Tia scowled at me and removed her glasses, "I think it's important we're well rested. Although this should probably be a GROUP discussion..."

It was then I noticed the other guy, Matthew wasn't in the room but I just looked around and collapsed onto the other end of the sofa. Ray managed to move his legs, and then decided to get up.

"He might be outside," he suggested, reaching for his cigarettes. Idiot.

Tia then let out a dramatic sigh and resumed being a nerd. Glasses and dictionary returned. Her walnut hair helped with whatever style she was going for, warm pink skin, pastel orange pyjamas and delicate dimples in her round face. Here Tia had become some sort of innocent fairy thing that curled up and hid from danger. Here I hated her as much as I hated Liz.

Done eating the skin behind my nails, I dosed off immediately and found myself more tired than I realised. I hated Liz more than I've hated anyone which, for me, is saying something.