It can never be me! #2

This is the second part of the It Can Never Be Me! series, you can find the first part here.

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In my search for anything that could help me make sense of my current predicament, I had to go through my therapy notes and this felt like taking a twisted trip down memory lane.

At first, every session was pure torture — sitting there, baring my soul to a stranger who believed he had the answers and could fix me with his empty words and pitying eyes. It was almost laughable, his delusion that he could understand the darkness inside me, let alone help me escape it.

Did he think I wanted to be there? Did he think I needed his help? Did he think he could help me?

What an absolute joke that was, and to think he once suggested I let go of my precious red lighter, again what an absolute joke.

The itching was now taking control of me, but today was not supposed to be a day for destruction.

It would be the happiest day of my life as I’d finally meet Vanessa’s folks. I loved them. They were kind to me and even took me like their own son. I couldn’t wait to tell them how much I loved them in person and thank them for birthing such an angel.

As I prepared myself, I tried the various ointments that normally eased the itching and moisturized the scar tissue to no avail.

At this point, there was no denying that my demons were all out to get me today. The voices in my head were getting louder and louder. I needed to shut them up and shut them out.

There was only one way I could achieve that, the only way to regain my sanity and appease my demons — I needed to fight fire with fire.

I reached out for my lighter and rolled up the pillowcases to set them ablaze and just as I was about to flick the lighter spark wheel that would create that much-needed spark, I heard a knock on the door.

Looking through the peephole on the door, I could see her standing there, in all her beauty and grace with her face hung over her phone — my fiancee.

Why was she here?

We had no plans of seeing each other before the meeting with her family later that day and why did she not inform me?

I opened the door to see her almost shaking and holding her thighs together.

“Hey sweetheart, what are you doing here?” I asked with the fakest smile I could gather.

“Please, please, out of the way before I pee on myself,” she said as she brushed past me towards the bathroom, with lightning speed. I let out a chuckle as I could hear the loud sigh of relief emerge from the bathroom, she must have been very pressed.

I was glad to see her but honestly, this was not the best of times — I was not in a good state of mind and that is the last thing I wanted her to see today.

I was lost in thought for a minute and couldn’t notice that she was out of the bathroom and standing behind me.

“What on earth are you doing, and why haven’t you been answering my calls for the past hour?” she demanded, her voice sharp with concern. “It’s Saturday — I know you don’t have any meetings. And why does it smell like charcoal and burnt ash in here?” She paused, eyes narrowing as she stepped closer. “And what happened to your skin? It’s all red and irritated, like you’ve been scratching at your scar again. What’s going on?”

“Come on, sweetheart, one question at a time,” I said, pulling her close and wrapping my arms around her. I leaned in, pressing a kiss against her lips, hoping to distract her just long enough to keep her from asking any more questions.

“Sorry I accidentally set the pillowcase on fire, I wanted to wash the bedding but somehow I lit up the lighter, and one of the pillowcases caught fire. I quickly put it off though so nothing happened”.

“I don’t even know why you won’t just throw away that stupid lighter” she murmured.

Apparently, her car wouldn’t start, so she decided to ride with me in mine. I had been so lost in my existential crisis that I hadn’t even noticed the barrage of calls and texts she’d left, letting me know she was on her way. All her messages, desperate attempts to reach me, went completely ignored as I spiraled deeper into my thoughts.

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Saturdays are my favorite days of the week, the ones I truly look forward to. Whether it’s the fact that I’m not working, the invigorating early morning runs and intense gym workouts, the luxury of sleeping in sometimes, or enjoying a leisurely dinner with my fiancée, I can never decide which part I love most, each moment of the day is a delight.

It was on one of these Saturdays that I decided to visit my future in-laws to formally introduce myself. I was bursting with excitement, sitting in the passenger seat, riding shotgun as my fiancée took the wheel.

I sat back and closed my eyes in thought while occasionally tending to the intense itching scar on my elbow. I needed this day to go well and I was going to make sure of it against all odds.

I woke up to the joyful shouts of Vanessa’s siblings and parents on the driveway. The excitement in the air was palpable, and everyone seemed eager to hug me all at once — thankfully, there was plenty of me to go around.

They were a beautiful family, radiating warmth and hospitality from the moment I arrived. The love they shared was so strong, that you could practically feel in the air or cut it with a knife.

I was treated to various dishes and it was now obvious the source of Vaness’s culinary prowess. I hadn’t felt this kind of love in a while and as such I needed to repay them for this good deed — and what better way could I show this other than with a baptism of fire?

The itching on my scar had reached an unbearable peak, and not even the presence of this perfect family in front of me could distract me from the overwhelming urge that consumed me — I wanted nothing more than to set this beautiful house and its occupants ablaze.

I know what you’re thinking… how sick and twisted I must be.

People, like you — and even my therapist — are quick to brand me a compulsive pyromaniac, a psychological disorder you all call it, a disease of the mind.

But you all don’t see what I see. You can’t grasp the allure that pulls me to the flames. There’s something hypnotic about fire, a primal force that demands reverence.

It’s not just destruction; it’s a dance of life and death, a flickering, consuming beast that few have the privilege to understand. To be part of that beautiful chaos is to feel truly alive, teetering on the edge of control and surrender, in awe of the power that burns within.

And what could be better than sharing this gift, inviting someone to step closer, to feel the heat against their skin? To watch their eyes widen as they too experience the glorious burn, the exhilarating touch of the flames that marks them forever, etching the beauty of that scorching moment into their soul.

And this was going to be my gift to my beautiful in-laws.

To be continued…