Where We Found Our Home by Natasha Bishop

 

Eddie

Ihate you.

Do you know what I had to do today?

I set a fire. I’ve never set a fire in my entire fucking life. And yet I had to in order to teach you a lesson. You’re so sure this man can protect you because what? He willingly runs into burning buildings? He’s just as flammable as you, and I’ll gladly burn him alive to make you see that. I didn’t think that you could ruin me any more than you already have, but you’re so determined to prove me wrong.

I hate you.

Do you know what burning skin smells like? I do. I’ve known since I was twelve years old and that sadistic bitch who popped me out of her cunt held my hands on top of the stove. You never forget that feeling. That smell.

You know, when I disposed of her I had to make it quick. Pity. She deserved a much slower, much more brutal death. Suicide, they ruled it. In a way it was. Every slap, every kick, every cut, all the pain she inflicted on me only led to her own demise. Slitting her wrists was easy. Watching her bleed out until the dim light in her eyes went out for good was a treat. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. If I had my way it would have taken them days just to be able to identify her.

I’ll take my time with you though. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be begging me for the sweet release of death. Maybe I’ll grant your wish. Maybe I won’t. I decide. I hold your life in my hands and I’ll crush it beneath my fingertips.

I hate you.