As soon as I tossed the lit lighter toward the gasoline, I took a drag on my first and only cigarette.
Feeling all the lies being burned by fire next to the man who was once my husband, the intense blue eyes promising and swearing a non-existent love with each beating, forcing my mind for a single moment to think I was guilty of their evil.
Am I losing my sanity?
Losing myself from reality?
The cigarette is gone, and the flames continue to consume all the fuel, the smell of burning flesh must have settled on my skin.
But I wanted to be there and nowhere else in the world, seeing the one who for a single moment was the air I breathed, the dominator of my demon turn to ashes is like coming without having sex. And as much as no one could take his place, even in death he is my deepest pain, my scar most open and most exposed to the sun.
The dream of a happy life and of building pure love together with a big family is my dream of a margarine commercial that just went up in smoke.
I hoped that at some point regret would strike, that the pain would make me numb, that I would gasp for air. Still, by some joke of fate, I felt my lungs draw in comfortable air for the first time, felt pleasure filling my veins. I rolled my eyes at the mess, that was the only moment of discomfort I felt.
Drink me, feed me and let me show you the light.
My demon seemed finally free of its shackles and for some madness, that's comforting.
I grabbed the alcohol off the shelf next to it and walked over to the dirty ax on the table, with a fresh flannel, I started wiping off the blood, smelling the rust and watching the ax shine.
I continued the same process with each knife, each razor, each needle and each pliers, all the last twenty-four hours I spent here were worth it. Each cry of pain present inside the memory kept especially in a place where the past cannot be forgotten.
And now every part of me has taken a toll to maintain itself, I took as deep a breath as I could, leaning against the wall, taking the cell phone off the shelf, turning off the sound and opening the door. The darkness hugged me like an old friend, climbing each step I expected to feel any remorse and all I felt was an immense nothing.
Walking through the dark house, feeling along the walls for some support for my tired legs, I managed to reach the bedroom, and as in a silent prayer I connected my cell phone to the sound system, threw myself on the bed without caring about the number of missed calls or messages.
I sighed, losing reality as I felt the blood fill my mouth after I cut my lips biting off.
He could have lost his sanity and still, it didn't matter.
Blood, fire, ashes.
The whisper in her mind brought the first smile to her lips and that little feeling would never go away. Inside the bathroom I noticed that the sound had already turned off because maybe the cell phone had finally died, with a livid head I walked out of the bathroom with a towel holding the bag in which I put all the evidence that could incriminate and smearing the whole house with blood, I left the bag next to the front door so I wouldn't forget to take out the trash even though I didn't know if it was collection day or what day it was.
I walked over to the kitchen counter where I used to leave the charger and plugged it into the wall socket, feeling a small shock in my hand and a red ball instantly appear on my fingertip.
The pain didn't bother anymore, maybe she had been the only true companion in all these years. I moved a little to the left, opening the fridge door and getting the orange juice, milk, and two eggs. I prepared the skillet and cracked the eggs, taking a kettle to brew a strained coffee and putting it on the fire, I took a glass and filled it with juice, watching the eggs crackle inside the skillet as the crackling of the bones breaking filled my mind and my ears. .
The kettle whistled and the smell of the eggs began to burn, I closed the fire and placed the eggs in a shallow dish, I brewed the coffee with the utmost calm and precision as the art that it is. Picking up my biggest cup, I filled it with coffee and topped it with milk until it sloshed off as I lifted it off the counter, I took a sip, feeling my stomach thank you for the food that had been stolen from you. I looked at the glass still full of juice, the contents spilling across the kitchen mixing with the drips of blood from each open wound.
The sound of a car outside didn't surprise me, and when one of the few people with my house key entered, the silence weighed heavily and the air coming through the door chilled the house.
His eyes searched the house for something that would never be there again, understanding seemed to reach his thoughts, taking in my little breakfast. His slow-step closeness wasn't surprising, but his silence for the first time in his life bothered him.
The eyes as dark as mine, the straight hair and the well-cut beard marking the fair skin, for the first time in my life I understood the darkness in my brother's eyes.
Maybe the worst monsters aren't the ones we created, maybe the worst monsters are just ourselves.
Pulling the drumstick sitting in front of me in deafening silence, I took a deep breath and returned the coffee cup, I didn't bother with the front door open, the footsteps of those entering were filling the small room between a sofa and the kitchen.
Stefano made a point of saying that she wasn't worthy of a big house, that her body would be deformed if she got pregnant, the small house I'd learned to hate for being a prison, the walls a ridiculous color of green, without having the slightest option of redecorating or any shit.
I lifted my head and watched quietly, feeling an incredible calm inside me.
Each look loaded with a question that I couldn't answer until the hunger was over, and the worst thing is that this hunger didn't stop the desire to rewind each moment like a movie feeling each sensation closing my eyes, when I opened I saw myself reflected in the eyes. dark eyes, I gave a small smile, feeling the monster's desire to boast.