Stay With Me, Forever and Always

Charlotte 3:06 p.m.

I threw down my bookbag, not caring where it went at this point.

“I’m home!” I shouted to no one in particular.

And of course, no one answered.

I automatically sighed and went to the fridge, where a note from Mom was waiting for me.

Sweetheart,

I almost gagged.

I won’t be home for the next couple of days. Duty calls! :-)

Dinner for tonight is in the fridge, and there’s money for anything you might need this week.

Try not to throw any wild parties, ‘kay? ;-D

Love you bunches of bananas!

-Mom

I grimaced at the thing and got a Vitamin Water out of the fridge.

Sipping the drink, I noticed that the house was too quiet.

I walked over to the stereo, turning my iPod to shuffle, and it chose Atreyu’s song Blow.

My gaze wandered over to the window above the stereo, and snapped to attention.

Vincent was still out there, staring at me.

I quickly became angry, and stomped over to the sliding doors.

“Go away, dang it!” I shouted.

“Not until you invite me in.” He said, grinning coyly.

I slammed the doors closed and marched up the stairs. At the top of the staircase, I stopped, staring at the bathroom door before me.

Hm. Guess I have the house to myself for the weekend, then.

Why must everyone leave me? The thought came to my head before I could suppress it.

The lyrics floated up the stairs.

“We’re not sorry and we won’t conform...”

A sense of loneliness overwhelmed me, and I flung the bathroom door open, searching for my lighter.

“It’s not a choice but something inborn...”

Where is it? I know I hid it in the tissue box!

In my frenzy, I didn’t notice the open window.

My searching fingers grasped the silver metallic Jack Daniels zippo that had once been my grandfathers.

Ironic that the thing he valued most killed him...stupid cigarettes.

I bet you thought I was a smoker.

Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but you couldn’t have been more wrong if you tried.

Cigarettes are disgusting. The smell, addiction, and long-lasting effects aren’t worth it.

But fire is.

I grabbed a square of toilet paper and quickly lit it on fire.

The red-orange flames licked up the square before it even hit the ground, and left an after-smell of lavender.

It all made me giddy, and reckless.

I flicked open the lighter, and took comfort in the small flame.

I ripped off an arm's length, and brought the toilet paper closer to the flame, eager to watch it burn.

“BOO!”

“Jesus Christ!” My hand shook violently as soon as my brain realized I wasn’t alone in the house, and set the paper on fire.

I realized my mistake as soon as the burning squares hit the carpet rug.

The iPod changed to another of Atreyu’s songs, Slow Burn.

“I begins with a dark, glowing ember...”

“Crap a monkey in July!” The rug was smoking now.

“Something black, burning its way out of me...”

I stomped on it to prevent it from spreading anymore, and the lighter fell from my hand, the flame on it extinguished.

When I decided the fire wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, I turned, ready to attack the creep who made me mess up.

Vincent was doubled over, his mouth open in silent laughter and tears threatening to come from his eyes.

I snatched the lighter from the ground and put it away in its hiding place.

“How did you get in the house?” I snarled.

“Whoa, easy tiger. You invited me in.” He said once he’d gotten a lid on the laughter.

“I never said you could come in --” I started, then changed my mind. “You know what. Fine. Stay here if you want. I obviously can’t escape you, so do whatever it is you want to me.” I said in an emotionless tone.

He looked excited at my words for a moment, but then frowned. “You know, I’m not going to kill or rape you, or anything like that.”

“Whatever.” I said in my emo tone, and walked down the stairs.

He followed close behind me.

I could actually smell him, he was walking so close behind me.

I turned, half-way down the stairs, and sniffed.

“You smell...like that one guys cologne. Axe? I think that’s the name.” I was rambling mostly to myself.

“Really?” He looked concerned, “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not really. Actually, --” I Stopped mid-sentence, realizing what I was about to say, and continued walking down the stairs like nothing just happened.

“Wait, what were you going to say?” I could tell he was grinning without even seeing his face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I said in a monotone and turned off the stereo just as the song ended.

I turned to face him, and he was dangerously close to me, allowing me to partake in his scent again.

“Now, what were you going to say?” He asked seductively, a finger tracing down my jawline.

And I couldn’t help it. There was this instinct in me that just demanded that I answer.

“It’s not bad. Actually, you smell great. You see, I have this addiction to Axe because the smell is just so great, and since you smell like Axe, I like the smell a lot. And --” I rambled on and on until he pressed that same finger against my lips.

“That will be all, thank you.” He smirked, obviously pleased with my excessive answer.

I was furious, both at myself and him.

But mostly my stupid mouth that didn’t know when to shut up.