All that fascination bleeds
Is a piece of infinity
In frustration still believing
What I know will never be
Is a piece of infinity
In frustration still believing
What I know will never be
- Noah couldn't run anymore. He just couldn't. He was panting for breath, his side hurt, his lungs were on fire, and he couldn't force himself to take a single step more.
He stopped dead, not surprised when his legs were too rubbery with exhaustion to hold him, and collapsed into a sitting position. How long had he been running? It seemed like years, but it probably only been an hour, maybe a little more. He was tough, but he wasn't that tough.
Okay, assume an hour. It usually only took him about ten or eleven minutes to run the mile. So if he'd hauled a** at his usual pace, he was only about six miles away. He needed to get further. Further from the house. Out of town completely. Maybe even jump the country, if he could. Get as far away as possible.
Except no matter how far he ran, he'd never escape. He knew that. There was no escaping your own memories. He could hop a spaceship to Pluto, and he'd still be able to feel the heat, smell the sickeningly sweet aroma of burning flesh. For the rest of his life, he'd never forget the way his father had screamed as he died.
"s**t."
Now that he wasn't consumed with panic, the realization of what had happened was finally sinking in.
"s**t s**t s**t s**t s**t s**t s**t."
He began to shake violently, and he felt the sudden need to empty his stomach on the nearest flat surface. That horrible smell still clung to is nostrils, overpowering the faint scent of the night air. He couldn't get rid of it, couldn't ignore it, so he gave in to the inevitable and threw up until there was nothing left in him.
His father was dead. The b*****d was finally dead, and Noah was the one who had killed him.
"He deserved it." Noah muttered, his voice shaking even more than his hands. "He deserved it. b*****d got what he had coming. He deserved it."
But that smell, the screaming, the way he'd just burned up like a piece of tinder... had he really deserved that? Did anyone deserve to die in that knid of agony?
"Yes."
The voice wasn't one Noah recognized. It was a girl's voice. Through the haze of exhaustion and nausea, he made out a thin, human-shaped shadow moving down the sidealk towards him.
"You're asking yourself if he deserved it." The girl said conversationally, squatting far enough away that neither one of them could easily hit the other. "I'm telling you he did. The emotions that roll off of you when you think about it tell me so."
"W-what are you talki-ing about?" Noah asked, struggling up into a semi-crouch.
"You'll figure it out yourself someday." She said. "Right now, you need to rest. So fair deal- I give you a bed for the night and a good direction to run in the morning, and you trust my good intentions. Sound good to you?"
Noah almost refused, but his common sense prevailed. He couldn't run anymore, anyway. He could stay out in the open, wait for the police to come find him, or go with this strange chick and take the chance she was telling the truth. Not much of a choice.
His face must have said as much, because she smiled and stood, holding out her hand.
"C'mon; let's go get you cleaned up, okay?"
Piercing nothing to redeem the emptiness with lies
