Page 64 of Burn
“If I die, you die too.” I yell into the wind, cranking my steering to the right, cutting off a big rig, feeling his bumper whack my back tire, yet still I don’t go down.
The bike teeters, but all I do is cut across the lane and go off the road, the centrifugal force of my speed keeping me upright until I hit the gravel of the shoulder. As the truck blows past me, his horn blowing, him cursing out his window, I finally take her down, only it’s not a majestic landing on the highway in a splatter of blood and broken bones. No, it’s like a slow-motion fall into the soft grass of the side of the road.
I roll off the bike, kicking her and screaming at her for failing me, but I know it’s all me. I’m the failure. I’m the insane one. I’m the one destined to suffer.
“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!” I scream at my motorcycle that lays on her side safely in the soft soil and wispy greenery. “Fuck you right to hell with me.”
Once again in the same twenty-four hours I’m on my side, my body curled up, shirtless and crying like a baby. I’m toast, done, utterly destroyed, all over a woman. Go figure.
Cars whiz by, horns honk, but no one stops for me. It’s like they all know who I am, or better yet what I am. No Good Samaritans come to my aide; they just leave me there in a ball on the side of the road to die. Too bad I won’t.
It takes forever until the anguish inside of me simmers down to a bearable level. I lay in the grass, wheezing from crying so hard, holding my head, wanting to stick something in my ears to deafen myself so I can’t hearhim, but I know that too will fail.He’snot in my ears, but in my brain.
“A lobotomy.” I cackle to myself as I imagine sticking an ice pick through my eye socket. “I need a lobotomy. That’ll cure me.”
The completely random thought has me bolting up to a sitting position and looking around for anything I can use to pick my brain, but of course there’s nothing, and once again the sadness takes me down, making me throw myself onto my back and just stare up at the sky until I need to blink and the images of the clouds above are burned into my vision.
“For fuck’s sake.”
Chapter
Thirty
Darkness is my friend once again and the noises of the cars driving by on the highway become farther between with the cessation of rush hour traffic and nightfall. All day no one stopped, they just left me here, but I can’t blame them. I did get a news flash notification on my phone about a serial killer on a black motorcycle. So no one’s gonna stop for one in distress on the side of the highway.
Hmmm, I wonder who that is? Jesus now we’ve got the cop’s attention. Loser doesn’t even begin to describe your ass.
“Oh fuck off.” I grumble, finally rolling over and pushing myself up. I can’t lay on the ground forever. I need to piss and I’m hungry, and if I don’t return to the firehouse soon, they really will put out a BOLO for me.
Stretching out my aching muscles from the ride then lack of activity, I pace back and forth on the shoulder of the road, kicking rocks and trash that is scattered in the gravel and dirt. When I’m loose enough that I won’t pull something, I go back to the bike and lift her up. She’s unscathed except for some grass stuck in her little crevices, but they pull out easily. She’s gonna need a bath though when we get back.
“Come on big girl. Let’s go home.” I sigh, starting her up, and walking her in neutral to the shoulder, past the gravel, where I can get a good tire grip on the highway.
Now that the intensity of my mental breakdown has subsided, I’m more numb than anything. I don’t really have a death wish anymore, and I sure as shit don’t want to kill any innocent people by creating an accident in the dark, on the road.
Sounding a little back to normal now. You done being a bitch?
I’m not even gracinghimwith an answer. In fact if I ignorehimcompletely, maybe he’ll get bored and go away.
The ride back into the city is quiet, with no speeding or death-defying stunts, and I laugh to myself that I was able to pull off a wheelie I’ve never done before. It was magnificent if I do say so myself. I bet if I try it again this time it would kill me, now that I don’t want it to.
The summer air is refreshing once I get off the freeway and can actually breathe instead of the wind whipping my breath away. The side streets give the scents of the flowers and earthy tones of the season, and the inner city presents the smells of all the fancy restaurants and bakeries, with the aromas of food making my stomach grumble.
I’m not paying attention to where I’m going, I don’t need to, I know the city like the back of my hand, but I’m still surprised when I pull the bike up in front of the little bodega a block away from Phoenix’s apartment. It’s like my hunger and all the relaxing smells brought me right to it.
My legs are stiff and wobbly at the same time as I park the bike at the curb and climb off. My hands hurt from the cuts on them in the gloves and I dare not take them off and look, so like a creep with no shirt, leather pants, and gloves on I walk in the corner store and up to the counter.
“Hey, can I get a cheesesteak and fries?” I ask the guy at the counter, immediately furrowing my brows at him in confusion when he looks me up and down like I have 10 heads.
“Dude, you’re back.” He says, a wide smile spreading across his stupid face.
I’ve only been here a few times, and always with Phoenix, so why would this guy think we have the of relationship where he can talk to me like were buds?
“Uh, yeah. I’m hungry.” I say, hoping he’ll just go do his thing and make me food. I’m not in the mood for making friends, especially not after the month I’ve had.
“Fuck, we thought you were gone for good.”
Everything stops. The whole fucking world comes to a screeching halt. My head swims and my heart shoots up into my throat.
