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It took me quite a while to calm down. During that time, I ended up smoking the rest of my aunt’s cigarettes. I must have lit up maybe eight in a row after leaving Johnny’s place. Thankfully, it wasn’t too hot outside or I would definitely have passed out. I knew I’d acted stupid and probably hurt Mariah and the others, but the truth of it was that I was way too fed up to even care. It wasn’t just the thing about Kelsey either, it was a combination of everything hitting me all at once. Some drugs just do that to you. You might think you got everything under control perfect, and then it’s like slam. All of a sudden, you’re not as strong as you thought you were. Bury it behind whatever you want…fire, sex, anger, whatever. If drugs don’t bring it out, then alcohol will.
So I walked and kept on walking. I walked for a long time, and no matter how many steps I took, I still felt this tight pain in my chest from every stray thought that entered my head. My parents, Mariah, Seth, even leaving my aunt at home on the damn kitchen floor. I knew these people could hold their own, and hell, they were probably just fine without me. They could certainly forgive me, but the fact remained: I was a monster, I knew it. And it felt like they were trying to hide from that fact more than they were trying to hide from themselves. People wanted to feel comfortable with me, but there were moments I didn’t even want that because I didn’t want to hurt them. I mean, why would you curl up with the devil in your bed?
I wanted to leave. I wanted to leave this town so bad, you have no idea. If not for my own sanity, then definitely for everyone else’s safety. I couldn’t just watch the world burn like this, it hurt me too much. Yes I was real, I had the scars to prove it to myself. But what bugged me most of all was that everyone was trying to downplay just how bad I was. I think they knew it in their hearts, they all saw the meltdown coming somehow. My aunt certainly did, if not anyone else. That’s another reason I hated her apologies. She wasn’t the one who needed to say she was sorry. That was supposed to be my job. I’m sorry for letting Satan out into the world through my burn fetish, Aunt Marjorie. But there was no way out, not for me. No point in safety now.
After grabbing a quick drink from one of the old neighbor’s hose spigots, I felt the rush of the X finally starting to wear off after a couple hours. I was grateful for that at least, because Mariah definitely hadn’t lied. That half-tablet packed the punch of probably two and a half, and it was the fastest acting stuff I had ever tried, so it’s no wonder Johnny was awake the entire previous night. You could run marathons on that shit. That’s pretty much what I did, too. I just ran and ran until I couldn’t run anymore, until my thoughts were clear again, until I hit a brick wall and felt like a normal person. I ran all the way to the edge of town.
Somewhere along the way of crossing through a couple fields and other people’s yards, I had run into a big bottle of black spray paint that was still a little full. I figured I’d been through enough highs and lows for the day to last me a whole ‘nother week, so this time I decided I should find something to tag. A good dose of mischief does wonders for your sanity, and I thought if nothing else, at least I could make something to laugh at. It’s not like Seth and Mariah would be laughing with me anytime soon.
I looked all around at the desolate fields of corn and grain standing tall around me, at the road full of cracks, fissures, and potholes. Damn. Nothing that anyone could see. I watched the horizon for a good while, gazing at the darkness and the storm clouds rolling in. If this was some kind of prophecy, if I was supposed to leave that town now? Those few moments probably would have been the time. Either way though, my best guess was that the place was doomed anyway, with or without my presence.
“Who the hell wants to live in Kentsburg?” And that was it. There was my answer. Nobody would come to save us, I was pretty sure. I guess it’s not much of a surprise that a few months later, I would turn out to be right. But for now, I took a deep breath and looked once more to the ground and saw something I didn’t expect. A small shadow was crossing my path very faintly in the light of the bleak day, and when I turned around to see what it was, I smiled. I was at the end of town all right, the familiar old “WELCOME TO KENTSBURG” sign looming just over my head.
Like I’d told Mariah…it didn’t really matter anymore. All I knew was that in the coming days, this town would have to learn to either love me or hate me, just as much as I would have to learn to love or hate myself. If this was really the end and we never got power back, what then? So what if we’d die. We had enough drugs to ease the pain. And that’s when I started to formulate a plan. I figured “BURNTOWN” sounded like a much better name for a place to call home, so that’s what I wrote on the rusty old sign. Who knew, maybe it would catch on eventually.
All I knew for certain was that this place was mine now, and there was no turning back.
About The Author
Peter von Harten is a poet and author of teen and adult fiction.
He writes under the pseudonym of "Peter Andreas" for his young adult titles and retains the use of his real name for all general fiction, horror, sci-fi, and fantasy works.
When he isn't reading or writing, he also enjoys philosophical debate, foreign and independent films, producing electronic music and remixing, learning new languages, obsessing over the latest television dramas, or catching half-price appetizers at Applebee's with his best friend and singer-songwriter, Addie Haptain.
Peter currently resides in Allentown, PA.
Other titles from Peter von Harten:
The Orphaned Ones (coming soon!) – a vampire horror series following the many interconnected tales of those known as Orphans who have been abandoned by their makers, set primarily in London and Nazi-occupied France during WWII.
Blue Car Racer (written as Peter Andreas) – After living through the pain of his father’s death in the Gulf War, Colin Dirk doesn’t want to grow up and face reality. Being bullied at school by Aaron Kinkirk only makes matters worse until he meets Eric, a former friend of Aaron who sticks up for him. But Eric has a dark side of his own, and Colin’s mother seems more interested in getting remarried than listening to his problems. Can he learn to face his greatest fears before it’s too late?
Connect with Peter online at:
https://twitter.com/peter_vonharten
https://petervonharten.wordpress.com
https://poisonrationality.tumblr.com
Contact:
[email protected]
The Chronicles of Burntown, Pt. 1 Page 5
