Hey guys, welcome to my new Virals Adventure. If you follow any of my other Fics you'll know I've been very unfaithful with the updates. This is the reason why, this has felt so alive recently all my energy has been poured into it. Please remember to Review, I love reading the comments it provides that extra push to continue the story. I have a general idea of where to go with this, but a single comment could take me in a new exciting direction. I wasn't going to post this until I updated some of the other Fics but what can I say here we are. As thanks to my readers I will be updating every single one of my other Fics over the week. Enjoy!
Chapter 1- Strange addiction
I rolled the unlit match between my fingers. Shit. I stared at the taunting green head. The power behind the unlit tip made my head burn in an unexplainable longing. My fingers itched to light it, to watch it burn. To watch the flames dance without rules, without control. No I will not give in. I slipped the match back into the old box and tucked it away. Within an instant I was pulling the cardboard prison back open. My fingers were pulled towards the sea of unlit matchsticks. No. I clenched my fists tightly, causing the flimsy material to bend. I raised it without really meaning to and leaned over Sewee. It would be so easy. Drop the box and ride the dark wave's home. So easy. The mind is willing but the body is weak. The more I resisted, the more I craved it. I pulled out a single match knowing this time I wouldn't fight it. I dragged the match across Sewee's rough railing. The tip broke free in powerful eagerness. I held a finger above the match and felt its heat tickle my calloused skin. I grasped the end of the match as the fire swept closer to me. I heard the taunts and jeers locked inside the red glow. I watched the untamable blaze devour the stick. The heat seemed to suffocate all the oxygen that was laced near my fingers. I felt a horribly conflicted pain eat away at my heart. I felt angry and defeated all the time. I couldn't help it. I couldn't stop it, but God did I feel it. Watching the flame burn itself out threw my stomach into knots of unrecognizable feelings. The fire suffocated and died as I threw the match overboard. Its ashen state dissolved rather than making a sound as it was lost to the black water. I reached and lit another before I even recognized what I was doing. However, I knew exactly why I was doing it. It's no secret. Why deny it to myself? Victoria. I love her. I stared at the powerful light emitting from the single match. The fierce red orange color was just like her. I recognized the way the colors held their own, while all the same dancing together into something bigger. Yes, just like her. She was so much more than one color. Victoria was something big, something special on the outside; to the unknowing eye she would seem whole. Underneath it all if you had the patience, you could delve into every layer of her. Victoria was not just one emotion, she was all of them. She wasn't just one color, but rather a picture of them all coming together. I held the match above the palm of my and dropped it. I didn't even recoil as the hot blaze chewed at my hand. It didn't stop at my flesh. The fire worked its way down to my bone and into my blood. It filled me with its power only for the purpose of my own self destruction. I crushed the smoldering embers with a growl escaping from my lips. I didn't need to feel the pain the match was causing me, I felt enough without it. But the match was the key. I looked to the single match for strength. The power I felt wielding the match was tantalizing. I could light it whenever I pleased. I could stop the flames existence whenever I pleased. I could create and destroy. I had the power. I opened my clenched fist and looked at the broken match. It was snapped clear in half and the black tip was crushed. Flecks of the burnt material littered my palm, sticking to the coat of sweat. Shit. The lie made itself more present with every match I burnt. I have no power. I couldn't light the match with will of mind. The match had the power to ignite and burn. To create or destroy. I was just the hand it hid behind. I was weak compared to the match. But why, why am I so weak? Maybe if I wasn't so weak she would have chosen me. A small stabbing sensation prickled through my veins filling them with ice. There it was. The reason I was on Sewee alone with a box of matches. I knew where Tory was right now. She was with Jason. I think what hurt the most was how kind she was about it. She never brought him up or did that horrible,
"My boyfriend this, my boyfriend that."
Not that it helped. As polite as Tory was she could never hide it from us completely. He made sure I knew she was his. I always knew when she was going out with him. He tore up our road every time he came to pick her up. Fast, furious, and absolutely infuriating. He honked his expensive horn and played his "hip" music. What really twisted the knife was how she just ate it up. She loved it. I didn't think her to be that kind of girl, the kind that would follow a boy around like a lost dog. Deep down my insides ticked in frustration. I would never treat her like a pet, but as an equal, even if I do believe in her more than I do in myself. My phone buzzed once startling me. My stomach jumped to my throat on its own will as I prayed it was Tor. I found myself doing it every time my phone called out. Not my first disappointment of the day.
MOM: Please come down to the house this weekend? And please drive I need the extra set of wheels- it's a surprise(:
I wasn't going to object, I heard a little rumor from Hiram that Blondie was inviting the other Blond to dinner. The thought of being near that house made my stomach twist in agony. I could picture Whitney fluttering around the kitchen talking to Jason about how wonderful he is;
"Oh Mr. Taylor you are the poster boy for this town blah blah blah."
I could picture Dr. Howard eating it up and Tory just smiling her beautiful smile.
I wanted all these stupid feelings to go away. I reached for the matches and grabbed three. I didn't even pause before scraping them across the edge. Three flames. Each burned evenly with a uniform color. I have the power. I pulled one close to my lips. I blew a single puff of air and extinguished its life. I repeated with the second and third match and threw them overboard. Turning the key I whipped Sewee around and brought her home.
I stepped out of my house and locked the front door. I had run home after docking Sewee so I could grab a few things and leave a note for Dad. Not that he'd really care. I jogged down to my car and unlocked it hastily. I was about to slide in when I heard a voice. Her voice.
"Ben!" Tory ran over excitedly.
"Tory." Curt. My heart fluttered to its own accord. I wanted to rip it out of my chest and pull it clean in half. That was bound to solve some of my problems?
She started talking about a Backyard BBQ/ outdoor movie Whitney was planning. I was trying to focus on her words, as much as I hated the fact she let herself be dragged around by the meathead I still loved talking to her. My eyes broke free as I trailed down her face. Suddenly I wasn't listening. Her lip was swollen and looked a bit bruised. Her hair was mused and tangled in places it didn't used to tangle. I felt a fire burn in my deepest pits. I tried to focus on her other features, like the sprinkling of freckles on her nose and how much I wanted to kiss them. Her ears and how they looked perfect for playful nips came to mind next. I tasted bile in my mouth as I imagined Jason biting her ears too rough and slobbering on her nose rather than gentle butterfly kisses. My thoughts became primal as I imagined Jason treating her roughly like she was a possession rather than a princess. Finally the buildup of hate was too much. My mouth started to move faster than my brain.
"Why aren't you with lover boy?"
Tory stopped dead. Her eyes seemed a little panicky but I didn't notice.
"I was with him earlier." She twitched slightly. I tried to get in the car and get away, God I tried so hard, but alas Ben the dumbass strikes again.
"What base did he get to? I'm guessing third since your lips look like they've been to hell and back, by hell I obviously mean Jason's southern tip-" Tory delivered a smack that stopped me mid-sentence.
"Do you really think I'm that kind of girl Ben? Just some whore who opens up for anyone?"
"Anyone who's bank account has more digits than a phone number." My mutter trailed off, regret trying to drown out my mistaken words but Tory heard them loud and clear.
She stared at me in utter disbelief. I started to shut down, but I sure as hell wasn't going to apologize. I hated myself. I hated Jason. I hated Tory's decision to be with Jason. Not that it was her fault, id kept my feelings buried too long and when I was ready to admit them to her, as well as myself it was too late. Hate is a funny feeling. Its eats you away at an alarming rate, but does it slow enough, that you spend every waking moment suffering. Hate takes over. I got into my car and closed the doors, locked the doors and blasted the radio. I didn't pull out of my driveway only because I couldn't. Tory was pounding on the window. Her delicate lips moved quickly, screaming, crying my name. I didn't listen, I couldn't hear her words. Demons choked out any safe thoughts I had as the car continued to sit patiently. The rumbling engine growled like the beast inside me. I closed my eyes and let my brain shut down. I felt dark thoughts push themselves forward. They lapped at my brain like the inky sea rolls onto the shore. My box of tricks formed clearly, the matches danced out in a spiral of fire and death. The holding place for unlit matches became a resting place, a coffin. I was bound to it, controlled by it. The lid slid shut, and I was its prisoner. Five minutes? Ten? Twenty? I don't know how long it was, but when I reopened my eyes she was gone.
I sped down the deserted road, easily 20 over the speed limit. Fast, fast enough I didn't have time to think, time to feel. All my focus was dedicated to staying on the road. Well… that was my goal. That's not how it works though. Even while tearing up a small single lane road I thought of her. Tory. Tory. Tory, oh God help me. I love her. Why can't I show her, why can't I tell her how I feel. Why am I so weak, why can't I give her what he can? Why. Why. Why. Ever been at war with yourself? That's what it sounds like. The constant bombs of self-hate, repetition and self-pity. Once you turn it on it's hard to shut off. Thoughts can be productive, thoughts can be rewarding, thoughts can be destructive, and thoughts can be scary. A single thought could cure cancer; a single thought could start a war. Thoughts load the gun and hand it to you. Actions pull the trigger.
Tears blurred my vision as my foot eased off the acceleration. Its funny how we make choices, every cell in my brain screamed at me to slam my foot down on the accelerator until I couldn't feel anything. But something deeper, something instinctive told me to slow down. Maybe it was my canine instincts that told me to slow down; maybe it was my canine instincts that told me she was there.
Uh-oh. Who or what do you think Ben saw? How do you feel about Tory and Jason, is there something fishy going on or is it just me? What does Myra have in store for Ben? How do you feel about the first chapter? Please review.