Burning Cities

I flipped through the channels aimlessly, skimming past the Christmas infomercial and child television programs, wondering why there wasn't anything on t.v. this evening. Nothing on the music channels with their pointless crap, nothing on the movie channels with a title that seems interesting enough. I let loose a very frustrated sigh, feeling my blood boil as I resort to some stupid modern cartoon. Nothing as awesome and entertaining as the old school ones use to be.

The front door open cautiously against the wind, and my father stomped his feet on the dark hard wood four foot square by the door. He took of his black cowboy hat and his long tan trench coat, proceeding to step onto the carpet with his dirty wet and shiny black shoes as he climbed up the stairs to my right.

"Take out should be here in a few." He yelled before he closed his office door shut. I didn't expect a warm hug or a nice hello, instead I knew I'd get the same cold and emptiness in every word he spoke. The only thing I could appreciate was his acknowledgment in my existence.

My gaze drifted away from the bottom step of the stairs, where I stared longing, back to the t.v. with the poorly scripted cartoons that are just as equally poorly drawn. It was the amount of colors and fast moving objects that probably caught the eyes of younger kids, as well as the corny lines that were meant to be funny. I don't know when I became such a cynic towards cartoons shows. Maybe around the time when life spiraled down from the happy routine it use to be.

I quickly glanced at the clock to see that it was 7:15, way passed the time that I thought Alan would call. It may be 12 when he finally remembers I exist. I pushed the okay button on my cellphone, the screen illuminating to show some random emo looking wallpaper and the time. 7:16. It wasn't a minute ahead, but I checked to clock above the mantel on the fireplace just in case.

I was antsy, nervous, anxious. My stomach was churning like butter inside of me as I drummed my fingers against the arm of the white couch. Fairly comfy couch, I might add, but that didn't stop me from expecting the door bell to ding and dong any second now. It needed to, or I might explode. The phone needed to ring as well, and waiting for that will add to the force of the explosion.

If I did explode, the dark gray walls of this very living room would splatter with guts and blood the darkest of crimson, perhaps shards of bones would appear. The t.v. would be completely covered as well as the spot I sat in, the black stone coffee table, the magazines. The ceiling would be splattered with my brains that would drip from it slowly and make a squish sound as fell onto the white carpet.

Ew...I simply can't believe I'd think of that.

Finally, when an insanity inducing cheery tune rang throughout the house I stood up along with the assumed amount of money the meal would cost, I tugged at the door and it opened to reveal someone who took my breath away. Pale skin that seemed to faintly glow in porch light, tight thin lips, a cute nose, and sharp icy blue eyes that were covered by black hair underneath a red baseball cap. Part of the uniform.

"Um..." Oh you can say something more intelligent then that you ninny! I screamed at myself inside my head.

"Fifteen dollars." I looked at the twenty dollar bill in my hand and nodded, handing it too him slowly, hoping that his fingers would brush the tips of mine. I wanted to moan in disappointment when they didn't.

He handed me the brown bag of take out food and I could smell it rise up to my nostrils, taking in the sent of sesame chicken and noodles, maybe a wanton or too. He nodded his head and I waited to close the door when he'd gotten in the piece of shit car he drove and was out of sight. If I ever caught wind of that boy again, being faithful to Alan would prove to be futile.

I set the bag onto the counter inside the tiny, bright kitchen through an entrance by the foot of the stairs. My fingers were sweating already from the heat swelling at the bottom of the bag, and I was relieved to set it down. I opened it curiously, watching my pale fingers curl into the bag and retrieve steaming white Chinese boxes. I looked at it grotesquely, with a sting of strong dislike. I hate eating it every night now, and I'm not prepared to eat it every day for the rest of my days either. But what could I do? Cooking for myself was not an option.

Taking what I knew to be my fathers meal, since it smelled like ass (the seasonings) and pork, I took it up to on a little black plastic tray. I tip toed up the stairs quietly, trying to even my breathing with the rhythm in which I put my one foot down on a step. Breath in slowly, breath out slowly. Simple, yet complex because I had nearly dropped the tray. Realizing what a disaster that could have been, I cursed myself.

I stood outside my father's office door, letting my hand touch the silver door handle. I caught wing of frustrated vibrations that felt like a sting to my skin, but I had to ignore the feeling and open the door, despite the suffocating feeling I got when I entered. Swiftly I set the tray down on a bare space on his desk, quickly leaving the room, closing the door behind me and let my head softly fall back onto it. Relieved to be out of there. Out of the cold darkness, and the bitterness that my skin absorbed.

It's a special part of me that's able to feel another person's emotions, if I really thought about it and felt around for it. If I closed in on myself, I would be protected from the various emotions that was trapped inside their rib cages. My mother told me in runs through her side of the family, and she has it too, just not as strong as I appear to...I'm able to feel someone through the phone if they are at least three miles away.

Moving away from the door, I traveled downstairs just as I heard the ring tone I set for Alan when he called echo from the living room. I nearly tripped down the stairs trying to get to it fast enough, and when I did, I was almost thankful.

"Yello?" I asked quietly into the phone, panting slightly.

"Sounds like your a bit disheveled. I'm not interrupting anything am I?" His deep voice sounded snotty and angry, and I was afraid to feel him. So I didn't, I just only felt what I was feeling. Anxiety.

"I ran down the stairs to get to you." I told him, even though I knew he'd be persistent to get what he wanted to hear.

"Oh please, after the things I've gotten you to do for me, I wouldn't be surprised if some stranger was with you-"

"Don't even Alan." I threatened, clenching my fist, digging my nails into my palm. I sent out to feel him, and surprise tingled the hairs on my arms.

"Or what?" He sounded frightened.

"Or nothing..." I collapsed in myself, and he chuckled through the line, and triumph seeped into my pores.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"I love you..." But he hung up before he could hear me, and I suppose that was a good thing. Because I'd have another thing coming tomorrow.