Pyromania | Diego Hargreeves [2]

【CHAPTER FOUR 】

—chapter four, or...

❛ everything in 1962 is itchy as hell ❜  

"HONEY, I'M HOME!"

The words echoed into the home, bouncing off the walls and down the rooms. But nothing but a creepy, melancholy silence answered her back. 

Elodie frowned, pausing midway from taking off her boot. "Diego? Ellie?"

Still no response. The painting across the foyer, a woman wrapped in bloodied lilies and barbed wire, watched silently. A soft tick-tick-tick echoed; that clock that was never on time. Her bag thumped against the wall as it swung on its chain. But no soft, willowy voice called out from the kitchen to tell her he was just doing homework, or a low honeyed rasp from the living room, followed with the soft 'schnick' of sharpening knives.

Heart in her throat, Elodie crept forward tentatively, kicking off her shoes with reckless abandon. The creaking floorboards only made her panic rise higher, hotter, burning her throat like the orange flames licking up her fingertips. 

"Diego? Ellis? Where the hell are you guys?"

She had almost lost her mind when finally, suddenly, a small voice called her name.

Elodie whirled around, searching for the source of the voice. It was softer, quieter than she normally heard him, but at least he was there. She hurried down the hall turned into the living room to finally see the familiar head of hair, back turned to her and staring into the fire.

"There you are," she breathed, and stepped a little closer. "I was calling, didn't you— "

"— you are so selfish, you know?"

Elodie froze. "I...what?"

"Selfish, and horribly naïve." The head of hair still did not turn her way, instead speaking to the fire by his feet, watching as the artificial flames flickered and flew. "You cost me everything. And you probably wouldn't realise that without me telling you, would you?"

Elodie stared at the man's back. Something felt off, terribly off...but she couldn't move from her place. "I-I'm not sure what you're talking about— "

"—for yourself, yes." The fire rose higher; she wondered if it was her, doing it. "You abandoned us all, Elodie. And all for your own gain. Like you always do."

"N-no! That's not true!"

His back still did not turn. For a second it almost seemed like he was in flames, himself, but when she blinked the illusion died. Still, though, her anxiety rose even worse.