Unstoppable

The Thirty-Sixth

Walking down the stairs as quietly as possible, I stepped into my kitchen, turned on my light, and poured myself a glass of water from the tap. Sipping it, I allowed my body to feel the coldness and absorb it as energy.
I'm clearly gonna need a lot of it.
The blood in my body circulated a slight bit faster after this. It was a strong sign that my body wasn't giving up yet. Moving into the front room, I went to turn on the light before I saw a slight outline of a person in there.
I'm guessing this is Poppy.
Taking a few steps back, I decided to simply leave her and step outside. Smiling at the sight of calmness, I put my glass down on the table, went upstairs, changed, and came back down. Surprisingly, through all of this, I didn't wake a single soul. After looking myself down in a mirror (jeans, T-shirt, Large hoodie), I stepped outside, allowing my body to breathe in the dark and tainted air that transformed itself through my lungs. The wind gently caressed my cheeks, allowing the breeze to flutter around me, waking me up, yet also relaxing me.
Mother Nature really knows what she's doing, right?
The light in the kitchen was still off, so I was in practical darkness. I took a seat on a garden chair, admiring the quietness and the relaxing feeling of the world without any people.
"It's something, isn't it?" I heard Callum say, clearly, as he was already out here. Taking another breath, I nodded, only realising afterwards that he probably couldn't see that.
"Yeah. It is." I told him, head still up, and arms outstretched. The air still seemed cool to be in, even after a few minutes, when the warmth in your body is spread out like a pitcher of water in a container. It's a relaxing feeling and an incredible moment, and I suggest you try it.
"I've been meaning to ask you something, since your still here anyway." Callum's tone changed. It was a lot more serious and a lot less friendly.
"Where are we going to put everyone?" Callum asked me, clearly as confused as I was. I thought long and hard for a few seconds, really trying to decide what to do about it.
"Maybe we can't." I told him, sizing up everything that had happened.
We simply can't. There's no room. Maybe we should dispose of one of them. Gladiator style.
"I-I'm lost with what we do, Callum." I repeated my point, hoping to jog his head and give him an idea. He clearly seemed as confused as I was, pondering on a situation that was almost unsolvable.
"Where have you been sleeping?" I asked him, checking him over in my mind.
I mean before, he slept in my parents' bedroom, but Charlotte has taken that. So what now?
"I sleep out here, in the stars." He said, standing up a bit. I guess he sensed I was about to interject, so he started speaking again:
"I know, I know, it's not safe or normal or blah blah blah but that's beside the point. We don't have the room Adam, you have to think of something!" He sat back down, exasperated.
I had no idea this bothered him that much. Yeesh
"I mean... there's always one option..." I said, thinking things through carefully, as to make sure this would work.
Am I willing to do this though? I can't go back afterwards.
"I'm listening."
"What about..." I struggled to get the words out, my mouth choking itself.
"We stay in the same room?"

It was around 11AM when the bunk bed we ordered rocked up. Some large guy with arms built like a sturdy pack of flats dropped the thing off, leaving it in the living room.
"You wanna hand mantlin' it?" He asked us, clearly noting it was just us here.
"Nah, it's fine. Don't worry about a single thing." I told him, patting it. I did the old 'you-wanna-cuppa' before hushing him away to do his work.
We've got this thing to do.
Seemingly instantly, Callum jumped at the thing, taking it upstairs and putting it together. He could only do so much without a box of tools though, and, obviously, I didn't possess any. So, his only seeable option was to run to the nearest tool store and buy a box.
"With what cash?" I asked him, wondering if he had anything he could use.
"I'm not poor, or broke." He flatly replied, clearly used to this comment.
Maybe his parents didn't live with him? Maybe they wondered where all the money came from?
"Ah... right." I replied, wondering how deep this was going to go.
I don't need a speech on rich kids, I was just asking.
Luckily, Callum seemed to read my mind, and left with a simply 'seeya'.
That left me alone, in a house where neither Charlotte nor Poppy were awake.
What the fuck do I do?

I ended up brewing a cup of tea and taking a seat at the table, leaning back in my seat and enjoying one of life's smaller delicacies. Water, tea leaves, milk, and sugar.
One of the best things mankind has ever created.
Sipping it, I tried to think about events before all of this happened. I find that if I clutch onto a happier memory, it makes the sadder ones easier to comprehend. My parents came to mind, but no memory really stood out. I tried other places, such as school (pointless as fuck), or relatives, but nothing worked. I still felt like complete shit. I leaned back a bit further, doing my best to keep the chair intact, and in doing so a memory I had no control over flashed into my head like I lightning bolt:
There's me, beating up Liam. And there's Liam, being beaten to death by me.
The memory circled around my head like an insect that wouldn't leave. It revolved, forcefully showing me every single detail, every single note of pain Liam sang, every single splash of spittle or blood that hit my knuckles or the floor.
I beat him to death. He's dead. He's gone. Out of my life, forever. Was it worth it? Was it worth killing him over? Is the anger I had built up throughout all of this really worth it? Am I really just a killer? Or is there something behind it?
The memory shifted, and all of a sudden I'm blowing myself and Poppy up, just to save me.
What would've happened if the school burst alight? Or if I'd have killed Charlotte, a girl who had no choice in the matter? I'm not the hero. I'm just the murderer. The killer. The one who seems to think it's okay to do all of this without prospect.
Her skin melted like cheese on lasagne as she screamed like a dying cat.
Why did I let this happen? Why didn't I just knock her out, senseless, and move on?
Another one floated from the remains of my mind: myself, looking down at my chest to find her spike lodged into it.
Again, this isn't how it should be. That should've killed me easily. And all I've got to prove it is a small scar. Why am I not dead? Why me? What made me special?
The memory started to fizz and distort, and all I saw in the creature's place was a hurt little girl.
I mean... some good did come out of it. Poppy no longer sells drugs, or has that monster inside her head, Charlotte is free to be whoever she wants, and Callum...? Well, I don't know about Callum. In a world full of cookies, he's the one you can't quite remember making.
Sighing loudly, I took another sip, letting the time drain away, minutes passing as I thought back on everything I couldn't stand.