Page 28 of The Storm
NICK
19 YEARS OLD…
I started the fire.
I pushed.
I provoked.
Fanned the flames.
Poured gasoline on it.
Found it funny.
It’s revenge.
I enjoy it.
Revel in it.
Every hitch in his breath.
Every quiet comment designed to make him react.
Every step closer than necessary.
Every time he says my name like it’s a puzzle he doesn’t know how to solve.
Every time his pulse jumps when I stand too close.
Every skittish, wide-eyed look.
Ilikethose looks.
Those moments of confusion.
Those moments ofwhat is happening to me.
The uncertainty.
The uneasiness.
The moment he understands that I see it. All of it.
That Iknow.
That I can read him like a book.
I built this inferno.
Branch by branch.
Glance by glance.
Touch by “accidental” touch.
He thinks it’s just happening to him.
