Firestarter

Before the fires

Eric

Mark and I met in highschool, we were close almost right away...after he got over the fact that I wouldn't help him build bombs. He said that's how he paid for most of his college expenses, selling bombs on the black market. Thinking back, I suppose that should have been a very bright red flag, but he was funny and jovial and, for the most part, a genuinely nice person. Back then he used to hang around with some pretty shady people, they were always smoking or walking around stumbling, the worst were the ones who looked like they had eaten a powdered donut with their nose. He never brought them near me or the apartment but he got a lot of suspicious letters and thick envelopes sent there. One day my curiosity got the better of me and opened the 5th very thick envelope of the week. Once I saw green all common sense, even the kind telling my Mark would probably or most definitely be pissed, flew from my head and I carelessly tore open the envelope. As I did, I watched several Benjamin Franklin's flutter to my feet. My eyes widened comically when I examined the contents of the envelope closer, there were a lot of bills...a lot of Bens. I remember thinking that if all those envelopes were like this one he wouldn't miss a few hundreds. I stuffed about two thousand dollars into my pocket and tried my best to reseal it, but i tore it so bad there was no way to fix it. I had cursed and tried to find tape or something to cover my tracks, because if I didn't I knew I wouldn't get out unscathed. I finally gave up and just tried to hide the whole thing away in the back of freezer, i suppose that wasn't the best idea, but my 22 year old mind didn't think he would look under a pile of frozen vegetables.
I can still feel my stomach drop when I heard the apartment door open, the thud of him dropping his backpack and the shuffling of feet on his way to the kitchen where we kept the mail. It was quiet for a few minutes then I heard a loud curse and the thundering of his footsteps down to his room. The slam could have woken the dead but I just stood frozen shock. Suddenly there was angry shouting from the Mark's room and the crash of things he was no doubt kicking and throwing in his rage.
"Fuck! I need a damn beer!" he made his way back to the kitchen where I could hear the opening and closing of the fridge door. Then my heart sank to the pit of my churning stomach. A slam just told me he had opened the freezer and wasn't happy as he closed it. Then, dead silence...just nothing. Tension stiffened my body, making my muscles twitch in anticipation.
The door burst open suddenly it banged against the wall, I have dent to this day, and revealed an enraged Mark. His face was flushed red in his rising anger. He took measured steps toward me, his breath heavy.
"Eric, I'm going to give you one chance before I beat your face in! Where the hell is my money?" He yelled horsley.
I considered playing dumb, then I remembered the one time I considered shoving a sewing needle threw my nose so I could look like a witch doctor. Nope.
I quickly fumbled in my pockets pulling the 20 bills I had stashed. With a trembling hand I held them out, he santched them from me. He turned to leave and I almost let out a sigh a relief, that is until his fist connected with my nose, then again with my jaw and a last time with my stomach, knocking the breath from me. With a final shove I landed on my ass and stared up at Mark, who looked like he wanted to rip my throat out.
"Try it again and you'll wish I was this nice to you." He growled.
He kicked me hard and I curled in on myself, and stayed like that until I feel asleep.
Thinking back I should have moved out then, the next day even, but I didn't. Mark beat me to it, moving out a week later I never saw or heard from him again, until I saw him on the news