Candleboy-second start

It was raining, and the air was dense with wet hot dogs, wet hot dog venders, gas, oil, vinyl. Wet cats, drenched anthills, garbage and the faint smell of sulfur.

Rain is nice. I like the way it makes me feel. My body steamed as the droplets of fine mist hit my hands and evaporated. Sirens were wailing in the background and I decided to burn Mom’s letter.

I watched the corners of the paper turn black in my hands. I didn’t want to feel anything. Freedom, despair. I didn’t know if I wanted to cry or scream. All I did was watch the corners of the paper turn black.

I’ve had that damn letter from Mom for so long. Ever since I got lost in this city. Ever since the arson investigation ended and I was cleared. Legally, my name may have been cleared, but my conscience wasn’t. I knew I killed him.

I was just thinking it would be a good time to go and see Nick. He misses me. I know. I’ve never been in love. I should word that better, I never let myself fall in love. I have enough to deal with.
But Nick does love me, I’m afraid. I’ve tried reason and I’ve tried renunciation. Now I just let him do whatever - he can watch me, he can hold my hand if it makes him happy. But he knows about me, and he knows my days are numbered. And though he doesn’t think I know, he keeps one of those candles in a Jesus jar burning next to that old picture of me.

I won’t live to see 20. That’s what the doctors say. My body is hot to the touch. My blood could boil at any minute.

I walked towards the building we Tansy is a girl. She has huge tattoos of waterfalls and black tribal bands on both her arms, but you can still see the scars. Tansy is 22 and works at a bar. She lives in an apartment with Sean.

Sean is Irish. He steals.

Tamora is a witch. She and her brother Naytan live together and practice their rituals on the ever-changing array of ladies that work this part of the city. I don’t know what kind of rituals they practice.

My Father died in a house fire I set. My Mother ran away after he died and I ran in the other direction. I lived with an uncle for a while here in the city until my Mom sent me a letter. Then I got lost in the city and was never found.

I’ve had that damn letter from Mom for so long. Then one night, it was raining and my body was steaming and sirens were wailing in the background and I decided to burn Mom’s letter.

I didn’t know if I felt freedom or despair as I watched the corners of the paper turn black in my hands. I didn’t want to feel anything. I wanted to cry and to scream. But all I did was watch the corners of the paper turn black.

Then Tansy found me and told me that Nick was dead.

Nick rans a hole-in-the-wall bookstore on 3rd street that didn’t even have a name. It just has “Bookstore” painted on the side of the building that we all live in. It’s not a dirty bookstore, either. It’s that actual real bookstore that keeps old, rare copies of Shakespeare and Homer and has sections on Metaphysics, History and Art. Nick loves me. I do not love him.