Burned

Chapter 19—Boiling Point

I’VE BEEN SO busy the last two weeks with Collin that I haven’t had an opportunity to pack up Jordan’s things. Since Collin is working another forty-eight hour shift, I finally have the time to myself to get it done.
I still haven’t told him about the restraining order, but Jordan has been unusually quiet since I filed it and I don’t see the sense in bothering him about it now. All it would do is piss Collin off and I know he would hunt Jordan down and beat the hell out of him. As much as I think a good, old-fashioned ass kicking is exactly what Jordan needs, I don’t want Collin getting into any trouble. For now, I’m going to keep it to myself and hope Jordan isn’t stupid enough to break the order.
While I busy myself pulling empty boxes from the garage and start the grueling task of packing up everything that reminds me of Jordan, I make a quick call to my mom and give her an update. I didn’t want to worry her about the restraining order, either, but she’s been bugging me nonstop ever since I told her I ran into Collin two weeks ago. I want her to know that things are moving quickly with him so it doesn’t come as a surprise when she hears it through the gossip grapevine.
She wasn’t the least bit surprised when I told her I was leaving Jordan and she didn’t even bat an eye when I told her I was kind of, sort of seeing Collin so soon after I filed for a separation. My parents always loved Collin and she was thrilled to hear that we were in each other’s lives again. There was no love loss between her and Jordan. Just like Phina, she never judged me for trying to stick it out and make things work, but she was more than a little overjoyed to hear that I had finally had enough and was moving on.
After letting her know that I’m still alive and promising to bring Collin over to see her soon, I end the call and get busy with my task.
My plan was to just box up all of Jordan’s clothes and other personal items that he didn’t take with him when he moved out six weeks ago, but once that was finished, I moved on to other things that I no longer wanted in my house. Our wedding album was the first of those items. I didn’t even bother to flip through the pages one last time as I tossed it into the bottom of an empty box. I didn’t care to see the smiling, hopeful look on my face on what I thought was the happiest day of my life. The woman in those photos was a silly, trusting fool.
On top of the album I stack every single framed photograph of the two of us together that used to hang on the walls as well as three other photo albums filled with snapshots of us throughout the years. I pack away every gift he’s ever given me, every card, every note and I shove it all away until I’m standing in our bedroom surrounded by boxes. Seventeen years packed into ten boxes. Seventeen years of memories, promises and hope all hidden away in ten squares of cardboard taped tightly shut for fear they might try to sneak out and worm their way into my life again.
I carry the boxes downstairs and stack them by the front door, my body worn out and covered in sweat by the time I’m finished. I look around the house at the empty nails on the walls where pictures of us used to hang and stare at the DVD case by the TV that now only holds a small handful of my favorite movies since the majority of the ones we owned were his. I sigh in relief, looking forward to dropping these boxes off at Jordan’s parents house and finally having him completely out of my life. I have no idea where he’s staying since his parents haven’t heard from him and I don’t care. I just want this stuff out of my house for good. His parents can deal with it however they want.
When I glance at the clock on the wall, I realize that three hours have passed since I last talked to Collin. He was called back into work on an emergency call and a little ball of worry ties my stomach in knots. I have no idea how long a call normally takes, but something tells me three hours is a long time for something non-serious. It occurs to me right then and there just how dangerous Collin’s job is. He could be hurt at any moment. I know he’s had years of training and he made captain, so he’s obviously good at what he does, but that doesn’t stop accidents from happening.
To take my mind off of thoughts of him being stuck in a burning building or something equally terrifying, I head upstairs and run a hot bath. When the tub is full and almost overflowing with bubbles, I strip off my clothes and sink into the warm water, resting my head against the bath pillow and closing my eyes. I think back over every time we’ve had sex and how much better it gets every single time.
I think about that day at the station and how he rocked my body on top of the speaker while the bass vibrated beneath me. I never thought I’d want to own a giant subwoofer, but something tells me I’ll be running out to Best Buy and purchasing one as soon as possible. Running my hands up my thighs under the water, I remember how good it felt to have his tongue driving into me over and over and my fingers ghost between my legs. I picture the look on Collin’s face when he sucked on his fingers before plunging them inside of me and the small tingling of desire between my legs turns into full blown need. I quickly push two of my fingers inside me and, even though they don’t provide anywhere near as much pleasure as Collin’s long, thick fingers, they’ll do for now. Seventeen days worth of memories scroll through my mind as I pump my fingers roughly in and out a few times before dragging them through my folds to rub against my *. I moan in the quiet room and my voice echoes off of the tiles, the house silent but for my sounds of pleasure and the sloshing of the bath water as my hand moves faster and faster between my legs.
I picture his hand wrapped around his cock that day in the weight room and the predatory look in his eyes as he stared at me while he pumped that hand up and down his hard length. I think about how much I wanted him to make himself come while he stood before me. How his face would have frozen with a look of unabashed pleasure while he palmed his cock until he came against my stomach. How I would have driven him crazy by sliding my fingers through the mess and then bringing it up to my lips, sucking his taste from my fingers until he grew hard again.
I think about the pleasure and pain of having him f*ck my ass for the first time and I know without a doubt I’ll want to repeat that experience again.
My fingers move faster and faster over my * until my back arches and I call out Collin’s name as I come.

I MUST’VE DRIFTED off after I brought myself to orgasm and I wake with a start and quickly sit up, some of the now lukewarm water splashing over the edge of the tub. I figure the cold water was the cause for my sudden wake-up until I hear a thump and realize a similar noise is what jolted me out of my bath time slumber moments ago.
Straining my ears, I wait to see if I hear anything else and when another thunk sounds from down below, I quickly pull myself out of the tub and grab the clean towel I threw on the floor. Drying myself off as fast as I can, I grab my short black robe from the back of the bathroom door and slip it on, tying the belt around my waist. I figure its Collin downstairs since I told him to just come over as soon as he got off work. In my haste to get down to him, I forget that the front door was locked and he doesn’t have a key. Eager to see him again, my nose doesn’t register the cloying, faintly sweet, noxious scent drifting around the corner until I’m stepping into living the room and it’s too late. The smell is so strong that I almost wonder why I can’t see it floating in the air around me.
When my brain finally registers the scent, fear takes ahold of me like a pair of shackles around my ankles. I jerk to a stop in the doorway of the living room expecting to see a monster straight out of my nightmares standing right in front of me. When I see nothing but the empty room, hope blossoms in my chest. Maybe it’s not what I think it is. The front door is standing wide-open, shards of split wood sticking out from the doorframe where it was kicked in. Twenty or so feet to freedom, to fresh air that will clear the fuzziness from my head and the exhaustion I suddenly feel. The fumes filling the room are starting to blur my vision, making the ground look like it’s tilting at an awkward angle and the walls look like they’re melting. I want to close my eyes to stop the room from spinning. My whole body feels weightless, and I have to fight the urge to curl up on the soft carpet at my feet and fall asleep.
A small voice inside my head starts to scream, shaking me out of the chemical high.
RUN, Finnley. RUN!
I force my feet to move, taking a few slow steps towards the door. I can see the railings of the front porch, the green grass of the yard, the sidewalk at the curb and a car parked across the street. I can make it. In just a few seconds I’ll be out there where I can breathe again. I can run to the neighbor’s house and call Collin.
The thought of Collin gives me the strength I need to run. I need to get to him.
My feet stumble as the room continues to sway but I keep going. Just a little bit further and Collin will be there. He’ll make all of this go away.
I’m sure I look like I’m drunk, tripping and veering from side to side as I hustle to freedom, but I don’t care. I need to get out of this house.
Ten feet.
Five feet.
Three feet.
I’m almost there. I can feel a soft breeze blow through the door and a smile lights up my face as I pause to breathe in the fresh air.
I shouldn’t have stopped. I should have kept going.
Two feet from freedom and a body steps out from the kitchen doorway, blocking my escape. The fist comes towards my face so fast I don’t have time to block it or brace myself.
Pain explodes through my cheek, radiating up to my temple until I see nothing but blackness as I feel my body falling.
Down
Down
Down it goes until it lands on the soft carpet.
The pain in my face and head swallows all of my thoughts and I let the darkness wash over me.

THE SMELL HITS my consciousness first. Something about it tickles my senses and reminds me that it’s wrong. It shouldn’t be here and I shouldn’t still be breathing it, but I can’t remember why.
As I blink my eyes into focus, a stabbing pain on the right side of my face has me slowly dragging my arm across the carpet and up to my cheek, cupping my face in my hand to try and stop the hurt. I can feel my heart beat thumping through the pain in my cheek and each pulse magnifies the ache and brings tears to my eyes.
I move my hand away from my face and press my palms flat against the ground, pushing myself up to my knees. As soon as I’m upright, the pain in my head and on the side of my face intensifies and I whimper.
“Wakey, wakey, Sunshine.”
The chipper voice has me jerking my head towards its sound, the blast of pain shooting up to my head making me instantly regret that quick movement.
Everything comes rushing back to me in a flash of memories. The day outside the fire station, the car following me everywhere I went, the texts, the threats, the restraining order, the unusual silence from him since I filed the restraining order and me stupidly racing down the stairs after my bath hoping the noise I heard was Collin. I should have known his silence didn’t mean he’d conceded and would leave me alone. I should have known he was only letting his anger fester, giving himself time to build up to the grand finale.
Standing by the front door, next to the boxes of his things, is the man responsible for the pain in my face and the deadly scent permeating the air around me. When I see the four empty red cans tossed onto their sides by the boxes, the wetness soaking against my legs finally registers.
I watch in horror as Jordan reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a small square of cardboard. My eyes sting with the smell of gas in the air and the tears burning behind my lids as I slowly start to crawl backwards.
Jordan’s eyes are bloodshot and his face is flushed and I know he must be high on something. There’s no other logical explanation for what he’s doing right now.
“Did you think you were just going to pack my shit up and put me out of your life? Move on with another man? He can’t f*cking have you! Do you hear me, Finn? HE CAN’T F*ckING HAVE YOU!” Jordan screams.
He punctuates his threat with the swipe of a match against the striker of the matchbook he holds in his shaky hands.
I’m so filled with fear that I can’t even find my voice to plead with him to stop. His thumb and forefinger hold the lit match out from the side of his body and the only sound I can make is another whimper.
“Do you have any idea the number of women I’ve f*cked behind your back over the years? You were so trusting and gullible it was pathetic,” he spits out. “All those women who f*cked ten times better than you and you’re the one I want. Now I’m the pathetic one and it makes me SICK!”
I can’t stop the tremors from wracking my body but I continue to inch myself further away from him, across the carpet. This isn’t happening. It’s all a dream. It can’t end like this, not when I’ve finally found what I’ve been looking for and I haven’t even had a chance to tell him exactly what he means to me; what he’s always meant to me.
“Stop moving away or I swear to f*ck I will drop this match right now!”
I immediately halt my backward movement while he continues to shout.
“You spread your legs for another man. How in the f*ck am I supposed to get those images out of my head, Finn?” Jordan asks, the anguish in his voice ringing through my ears.
The fact that he’s the biggest hypocrite in the world doesn’t even register with him. He just admitted that he’s been cheating on me our entire marriage but he’s so filled with jealousy that he can’t even see it.
“Please, Jordan, don’t do this,” I quietly beg, the tears escaping from my eyes and falling down my cheeks.
The match has almost burned down to his fingers and my only hope is that it will go out and I can get him to put the rest of the matches down before he does something stupid. He stares at my face and I watch as his anger starts to melt away with every tear that burns its way down my face.
“We can talk about this, okay? Please, Jordan,” I whisper brokenly.
Like a switch being flipped, the anger is back and his lips curl up in a sneer.
“We’re finished talking, sweetheart. You’re dead to me now. Might as well make it official.”
The scream rips from my throat as the match drops from his fingers and flutters to the ground, the carpet in front of him bursting into flames in a whoosh of air and crackling of heat as it heads right towards me.