Unstoppable

The Twenty-First

So, I'm back here. Where I come. When I die... if I can even call it that. I mean, I'm technically dead, but dead people don't come back to life, you know? What do I do? Where the fuck do I go with my life now? I can't get a job. I can't have a family. I can't raise kids, they'll grow up before I do. I mean, I can't age, can I? Age leads to death, and I can't die, so what..? How the fuck do I explain my situation to, Well, anyone? They'll think I'm crazy.

I just set an entire room on fire using chemicals and a lot of class A drugs. Maybe I am crazy. Maybe I should just leave. Why don't I? Why the fuck did I come back? Why didn't I just run whilst I had the chance to? What's wrong with me? Now, I mean?
The blanket, that was usually dark, has changed slightly. It seemed to have some sort of orange glow dancing on it, like a comforting fire. I still felt hot, but not uncomfortably. Almost like I was laying out in the sun in shorts hot. Content heat.
Is fire going to hurt me? Fuck, is it going to finish me off? I hope so. Why am I still here? What's my purpose? To just die, over and over and over again, until I can't be bothered?
The blanket started to turn grey, and I knew what that meant.
No such luck, I'm not dead. Head back in the game, Adam.
The grey was slowly fading to white as my body started to feel its normal state again.
So, your in a burning room, filled with burning class A drugs, and another body. Maybe even two if Charlotte didn't get out. Fuck, that's a life I've taken. I'm a murderer. A sick, sick murderer.
The whiteness appeared, blowing away the last of my death spell, before I opened my eyes.

How the fuck did he do it?
As I opened my eyes, I felt the sudden comfortability of my sheets and duvet as I rolled over, and looked at my clock. Twenty-four minutes past four, said the suspended numbers.
The day isn't even over again.....
Just like back in the basement, I felt extremely weak and unstable. It felt like my body was being held together with some sort of crappy tape. As I went to get up, a huge wave of nausea caused me to lay back down and groan heavily. The presence of vomit was slowly inching its way to the back of my throat as I made my way back up to a sitting position, just slower than last time. I managed to achieve this, and throw my legs around and off the bed. My school trousers greeted me with their sight, bloodied and practically burned off. A few strands of the things were remnant, and enough of the stuff survived to replicate that it was what I thought. Looking down, I realised the shirt I was wearing was completely burned off, creating a sudden, but noticeable, scar in my chest, where the rapier slashed me.
I thought The Boss said that all the scars and wounds would heal?
My hands were normal, even if my skin was more tanned. Grunting, I pushed my body forwards, and managed to land smartly and safely on the floor. I thought I'd be all over the place, shaking and trembling due to the nausea that was still hitting me in the face, but obviously not. I could stand, stretch, and walk fine. Opening my door, I was greeted with a smell I wasn't too used to: home-cooked food. It was a delightful smell, and ignited the fire in me that was hungry for food. My stomach became a rabid wolf as it started to howl and scream for something to be put in it.
Fuck, I'm hungry.
Walking down the stairs cautiously, I found myself walking through another door, and into the kitchen. This time, the oven was on, and something was cooking, but no one was there to monitor how it was getting on. Looking in, I saw a chicken, almost grinning as it was being slowly but surely cooked over the period of time.
I could honestly eat that now. Food poisoning can't kill me... can it?
Saving myself, I pushed back, looking for whoever had started the cooking. Moving into the front room, I found the television on, but no one there who was actively watching it. The bathroom had proved to be empty too.
That left the one place I hated going... the one place he decided to sleep in.

As I expected.
Callum was making the sheets, just like the last time I'd found him. Upon entry, Callum gave me a glance, shrugged, and went back to cleaning my parents' bed.
"What was the shrug for?" I asked, stepping into the room and allowing the door to close. The curtains were open, again, and the room was starting to look less like a tomb.
This room should rest. It shouldn't be used. Fuck sake Callum, sleep on the sofa or something.
"Well, you looked like a burnt chip. Your skin was bubbling and seething when we found you. I genuinely wondered if you were going to make it." Callum stood up and looked me in the eyes, gaze properly stinging me.
"You aren't as strong as you think. You probably feel like shit right about now, right?" He questioned, and I answered with a curt nod.
"You have to have energy. The more of it you use, the longer it takes to come back. You run out of energy, you could be asleep for decades, even centuries. Its how The Boss will manage you if you continue to misbehave." Callum suddenly pushed past me, and headed downstairs.
"What's the rush?!" I shouted after him.
"Chicken!" I heard him shout back. I don't know why, but a slight laugh passed through me as I chased after him.