Page 111 of Seth
Coming from Ignaz’s mouth, his name sounded like an insult. Seth stumbled back.
“No, Seth, wait.” Ignaz thrashed, but the bonds kept him in place. “Untie me, now!”
Seth fled. He didn’t see anything when he stumbled out of the club and hopped into his car. He floored the gas pedal, hoping to escape the sounds of his name ringing in his ears.
* * *
He satin the carin the middle of nowhere. His forehead rested against the wheel. He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting like this, but when the first rays of the waking sun stabbed the darkness and made it bleed, he lifted his face. The familiar silhouette of a burned-down church summer camp rose before his eyes.
“Ha…” Seth blinked then again and again, but the illusion didn’t disperse. He started laughing. He laughed so hard his vision failed, and he suffocated from lack of oxygen. He pushed the door open and stumbled out of the car. The burned wood crisped under his feet as he walked into the carcass of the once majestic building. Sour saliva filled his mouth as he scanned his surroundings. The loop closed. Once again, he stood where everything had begun. He remembered his excitement at leaving home without constant supervision and coming in contact with kids his own age for the first time. The bitter smell of cigarettes that had always cocooned around Brian, his stretched-out hand that on some mental level felt warm, and how foolish he had been for accepting it. Brian was the first thing Seth had ever remembered wanting to have and to keep. Instead, he’d kept his lighter.
I must be really stupid. I get burned over and over because I never learn from my mistakes. I’m stuck in a vicious circle of errors.
He lifted his face to the sky, knowing too well that the next time he fell asleep, his dreams would change again. The desert never forgot nor tolerated betrayal. He laughed even harder at the irony. For someone who didn’t know what pain was, it hurt so damn much.
Strolling around, he entered the space that had once been the playroom. Even though years had passed, it still carried the smell of burned wood. Seth remembered the screams coming from the buffet as he stood at this exact spot, laughing.
Maybe I should have died with them long ago.Haas is right; I should stop trying. They have all been right. Monsters like me don’t have a match.
Seth didn’t want to go home and see crumpled bedsheets, unwashed cups in the sink, and pillows gathered on the windowsill. He didn’t want to go home. Nothing waited for him there, except a too-big-for-one bed, tasteless food, shards of memories, and disappointment.
Seth returned to his car, pulled the spare gasoline canister out of the trunk, then searched the glovebox for the lighter. The silver edges sank into his palm as he strolled back to the place where everything had started. He halted in the middle of the former playroom and looked at his possession—the only trophy he kept after Flames. The lighter that once belonged to Brian Schütz was a physical reminder of how dangerous hopes could be and how bitter disappointment tasted.
I really don’t learn. Maybe I shouldn’t have survived at all. Haas is right. My love only causes death and sorrow, but nothing ever changes.He flicked the cap of the canister open and poured the sharp-smelling liquid over his head. His lids dropped; he squeezed the lighter harder.
I was never meant to live this long anyway.
* * *
“What the fuckare you doing?”Gustavo growled and slapped the lighter out of Seth’s fingers. The lighter fell and disappeared in old ash. He had been watching Seth for hours but didn’t intend to approach. After what he’d witnessed in the BDSM club, he thought Seth needed time and space, but he never expected to see this.
Seth turned around, eyes blank. Gasoline, streaming down his pale face, left red trails wherever it touched skin.
“What, not entertained enough?” Seth smirked, but no emotion surfaced on his face. “Come closer; I’ll light fireworks for you.”
“I figured you don’t care about yourself much, but what about Ignaz?” Seth cringed, turned away, so Gustavo continued, “People who hurt him are still alive. When the bodies are found, how hard will it be to connect the dots? He was fine before you, but now you’ve poked a wasp nest. He will be hurt, again and again, all because of you.”
“Why do you think I care?” Seth whispered, gasoline dripping from his hair. “It’s not my problem, not anymore.”
“Is that so? Oh well, then go ahead, light the fire. By the way, after your death, I’ll search your house, and I intend to break every sculpture you’ve ever created just to see what’s inside.”
Seth growled, lurched forward, aiming for the throat. Gustavo ducked aside, intercepted Seth’s wrist. Their chests bumped. “Gasoline got into your eyes. They are red. If you aren’t going to burn yourself, you need to wash them well, or you’ll have a chemical burn.”
Seth laughed. His mouth gaped, but it didn’t look like merriment. The hissing sound died, and blood-shot, leaking eyes settled on Gustavo. “For someone who hid behind a gun only a week ago, you are too brave. Do I look so pathetic you think I can’t kill you? Even if not today, there’s always tomorrow.”
“You don’t look pathetic. You look exhausted, and you are weaponless. I don’t feel threatened. You intend to die today, and even if you don’t, you have a great chance of going blind. Why would I be scared?”
Seth snorted, and the loneliness returned to his eyes. All aggression draining from his features, he strolled out of the burned-down building.
* * *
Seth layon the rearseat of his car, feeling exhausted and humiliated by his own weakness as Gustavo drove through the morning traffic. The requirement for help had allowed him to accept Gustavo’s aid, but his pride bled out with black ichor. He hated feeling helpless, being in need. The situation reminded him of his childhood. And by the same reason, the familiarity of the situation permitted him to lay on his back while the man he itched to kill poured water into his eyes.
“Fuck…” Seth breathed out a powerless curse. A wet compress on his eyes kept leaking drops over his temples. A prescription from the ophthalmologist and eye drops were clutched in his hand as he listened to Gustavo’s soft hums.
He couldn’t understand what Gustavo wanted from him and why his touch was so gentle. The thought melted as he realized he didn’t care. He needed to go home, lock himself in the bedroom, and forget about Gustavo and Ignaz altogether.
When the car pulled to a stop, he removed the compress and looked at the man. “I’m not going to thank you, so don’t wait for gratitude. A day will come when you regret this.”
