Ezzy

My mom and dad were furious with the fact I skipped town in such a flash, but they had that subtle hint of “I don't really care” in their tone of voice as well. Soon enough, my phone was back in my pocket where it should be, ignoring the calls my mother persisted with. She wanted me to leave, she got what she wanted, like usual.

Jack slept solemnly, and as hard as a rock on the bed next to I, and throughout the night I would jump into bed with him, then return to my own, like a scared little kid, who was also nervous to wake the beast. Jack wouldn't care if he woke up next to me, or vice versa, something about our friendship had just been rocky lately. Neither of us had been this emotional before. Sometimes I felt I could kiss him, not sexually of course, just kiss him for saving me, but then I'd second guess myself and remember, he's attracted to girls. And I'm a girl.

I don't think I slept an hour without waking up, and when the clock red 6:30, I just stayed awake, thinking about how much I should reevaluate my life. I'm tired of moping around like the sad little lesbian I wasn't, I needed to be out with some hot one night stand in the middle of nowhere. I was tired of waiting around for some straight girl who was nice, and I misconstrued her generosity of giving me the time of day as something more. She was straight, as much as I hated to believe it. No matter how pretty her blonde hair was, or how adorable she dressed, she wouldn't look at me the same way I do her.

“Ezzy, my dad lit that fire,” I heard Jack say, followed by an uncomfortable groan, interrupting my thoughts.

“What?”

“That fire, that house, my dad lit it.”

“You're tired, go back to sleep,” I urged, wanting to disregard what I had just heard. The fire? I had been trying to block it out. It hadn't had a direct effect to my life or anything, but that whole thing seemed so surreal, like it shouldn't have happened, like it was misplaced in my life when it should have been in someone else's.

“That whiskey smell- That stench was my dad. I know it. That fire was supposed to be for me.”

“Go to sleep, you're tired,” I kept repeating.

“Ezzy, I don't want to go back. I know he's looking for me, trying to make sure he clears his blood written name.” He looked scared, but he also look delirious, so it was hard to decide if he was sober or hungover.