The Eruption of Mountgomery

Chapter 29

I wouldn't! No! I would not succumb to years of hatred. I would not return to the life I knew. Despite that though, I recognized that I needed the proof--I would not allow Sky Turner to elude justice. Something just did not seem right about her relationship with Nero. Was she using him for her own selfish gain? Upon my return home, I opened the lid of my laptop and found the warm embrace of what I knew beckon me. I shook my head, trembling slightly at the thought. The yip of the dog sliced my gaze from the screen of pixels and I rose from the chair to pour kibble into her bowl. However, a simple text came through my phone. 

Nero will forget you. He was always meant to forget you.

I drew my lower lip between my teeth as my thumbs hovered over the screen of my phone. I never hurt Nero--I would never dare to do that. I would not dare--how could I? No. No. No!  I lowered my phone, pocketing it. Forget him--how could I? How could you forget someone who you knew loved you with everything they had? Lashing out at the world was all I knew--it will be all I know. I collapsed on the couch again, staring up at the ceiling. My eyes were closed as tiny embers flickered between my fingertips. The anger--the rage that consumed me disappeared, it no longer crackled--in a way, I fell dormant. I inhaled sharply, the embers flickering into nothing more than defeated smoke. What choice did I have in accepting it? Was I always meant to kill for the sake of killing? I know I was meant to kill Haben as it only made sense--would it have made a difference? Would he believe me? Would anybody believe me, a killer, over a successful federal officer? No, nobody would. 

Besides, I knew what Sky wanted--what she needed from me, but I would not give her the satisfaction of knowing she was the reason she riled me up. I would not allow her the satisfaction. I could hear the gentle chewing of my dog eating in the kitchen, the air thick with abrupt and somber silence. I flexed my hands, snapped my fingers for a moment, realizing a small flame sparked--caused by the friction. Her past--her skeletons--what were they? I sat up as I heard the clicking of paws against the tiled flooring of the kitchen. I sat up from the couch, gazing at the dog's warm mud-colored eyes. 

She licked her lips sitting in front of me. Softly, she barked, nuzzling her head into my palm, much too like a cat would. I raised an eyebrow. I trained Sky--I taught her everything, taught her to never trust anybody longer than necessary--use that trust to gain knowledge of detrimental secrets. Like clockwork, the victim would eventually give up the fight. The weather--everything that shrouded him remained constant--why was I always left alone? Why was I left to endure the hell? There was a gentle voice, soothing but it flickered within the back of my mind. 

You know exactly why you are always left alone to endure nothing short of hell. Let it go. I glared at the abyss of the television screen, unpacked boxes littered the dining room table. I stood up slowly, the muscles squealing at me to stop the movement. He abandoned me, yes, but I had found myself culpable for his decision to agree with his parents to leave. He fought my battles for me--protecting me. However, some mental scars never heal and watching him endure the pain just like I did as a child--the epitome of innocence--did not allow me to smile. I never asked him to take the beatings, to take the vocalized disdain, but he did it--he did it on the foolish basis that he loved me. He loved me--God. I shook my head as my fingertips trembled slightly as they hovered over the keys of my laptop. No, I was done--I was not her. She died with the child-like innocence. She perished when I was sent overseas. She held the anger--the burning ire that drove me to do everything I did--everything I do. 

I winced. I was dead to the public! I was dead to Nero! I was to be killed by a student--an assassin I trained. Questioning the trainees were deemed a violation of privacy and I did not question her during our encounters when I was younger. She was sloppy then, driven by raw disdain for her targets. Was the disdain mainly targeted at me? Was I her true target? Was she emotionally tearing me down--was she just using Nero for that purpose? Sure she had gotten in and out of the target's location abruptly, but the kills were sloppy, bloody, easily traced. The cops had her file--She was well-known, but did not have the level of fear that I had inspired. Her kills were like a teenager experimenting with differing techniques, however she always used mortal weapons. For a moment, I wondered to her powers, how people who passed her by collapsed, their eyes rolling into their sockets. They fainted every time she was present. Was she--no. It is a ridiculous notion--her controlling oxygen, an element necessary to breathe life into water and fire. 

Was he going to die? Would I perish with him? A freezing chill skittered up my spine at the prospect. I was not a martyr! If she truly cared about him, she would not dare. What? I gripped the sides of my head, running my fingertips across my face as a defeated moan tore from my throat. She couldn't kill him. She wouldn't kill him, would she? I shook my head once again, my thoughts raced through my head as I pulled out my phone. Staring at the inky screen, I clicked his number. He was holding be back from moving on. It would seem, I could not simply block his number--I could not simply kill him from my phone's contacts. Infuriated at my own incompetence, I exit out of his message and glare at her statements. Slowly, I sent her a message. 

What? What are you talking about? 

Don't play dumb with me, Vesuvius. Externally, you may be pleased that Nero is happy with me, but internally you are seething. You are ready to burst--ready to take it out on the world. The same world that would have rather seen you dead than alive. You were feared, a feared queen of darkness. It still resides within you. 

I was not born evil--nobody is. What are you talking about? 

You still love him. I see in in your eyes--however you were not the answer to defeating the anger. You would only drive his anger. 

Are you using him to get some sort of rise out of me? It will not work. It cannot work. 

Oh please, Vesuvius, you are absolutely nothing without that fury. Nobody feared you--they hated you--yes, but you were laughably weak. Ignorant to what exactly you were capable of. You cause volcanoes to erupt--your temper is something to be feared and to be respected. You could rule--

I winced at the phrasing. I lowered my phone and stared at my laptop screen. It was open with the website--I did everything for him--to gain his attention. However, now just as I struggle to properly formulate my own plan, her words bounced around in my head. I didn't want fear--I didn't want the unjustified rage and distaste that my peers dangled over my head. I needed respect, I wanted allies. I craved--I was not some cruel being. Was all she saw unrestrained fury that she could tap into? What was her goal? I tapped my finger against the touch pad of my laptop, throwing my head back. Another scream of agitation tore from my lips. I didn't want this--I never wanted this. This fury, this ire which crackled deeply in my core drove me to do things I would not have done if I was treated differently. I wouldn't target my school--I wouldn't dare. In fact, I held no ill feelings toward the school itself. 

Justice was served then. You could rule. I did not want that! I was dead! I was supposed to be dead! Oh--but who filled my place? Some woman who lent me clothes--out of the kindness of her heart. However, that did not change the fact that she needed to die--needed to fill my place as a drowning victim. I did not have the heart to beat her--in fact I held some sympathy toward her. She died so I could live--it was selfish and morally abhorrent, but that bitterness drove me to do stupid things--unsavory things in my quest of twisted justice. I was robbed--and I would not allow some younger bitch destroy me--I would not allow her to kill the one person that mattered to me. 

I do not want to rule. Do not talk to me--

The words were bitter, like licking a lemon as the sour nature of the words oozed that bitterness. I leaned back, pocketing my phone with a small smile dancing upon my lips. I have won.