Sunrise

The gritty surface of the roof dug red pinpoints into her bare thighs, but she hardly noticed. She brought the bottle of Jim Beam to her lips for another searing gulp and hissed as the burn turned to numbness in her belly. Her sigh came out as a sob and she let her head fall loose on her neck, her face twisting into a grotesque mask of pain.

Fuck.

Fuck him.

Fuck them all.

She was done. Out of here. There was no way she was going to put up with this bullshit anymore. People walking all over her, treating her like she was some kind of communal whipping post just because she wasn't In The Band. Hell, she paid rent here, too. More than her share most of the time, the broke-ass motherfuckers. And cleaned up after them. And kept the kitchen stocked. And kept him from flipping out on them when he was in one of his moods.

It had all been bearable, kind of, as long as she had him to turn to, but after last night...

Jesus, he wasn't even sorry. She could see it in his eyes. He'd looked up at her from between that bitch's legs, his mouth still wet, and he'd licked his goddamn lips and smiled.

Motherfucker.

"Why don't you join us," he'd said, winking. Like it was some party she was fashionably late for. No big deal, we're just having a good time. You can too if you don't start acting crazy and ruin the fun for everyone. No broken promises, here. No broken hearts.

Yeah. All that from a wink. When you know someone as well as she knew him, you don't even have to speak. She could read his thoughts in the careless shrug of his shoulders and the warning cock of his eyebrow.

She took another long pull from the bottle and coughed mid-swallow, the burn invading her sinuses and giving her another excuse for the tears streaming down her cheeks. When her eyes finally stopped watering they fell on the horizon, vaguely registering the thin streaks of pink beginning to appear in the clouds.

Sunrise.

March fifteenth.

His birthday.

She dug the little silver rectangle out of the pocket of her shorts, the white lining of her pocket coming with it, dropping bits of denim lint onto the glittering shingles. The metal was smooth and warm under her thumb as she ran it over the engraved surface. There wasn't enough light to see the words, but she didn't need to see them. They were engraved in her memory:

"To my Outlaw, I love you for free. Forever, Dragon Bait"

The top flipped open easily and the heavy smell of butane settled in the back of her throat, but her thumb just caressed the wheel without striking it.

She would have, too. She would have loved him forever. For free. Not a single one of those other assholes could say that. As much as they looked down on her she knew what they were really about. They all wanted something from him; just waiting for him to hit it big, riding along on his coat tails, getting antsy and eager now that success seemed imminent. She never wanted anything from him, she just wanted HIM.

The girls, always around but never before threatening to her, had become more aggressive lately. She'd seen their snide looks and registered their jealousy, but felt confident, smug even, in the knowledge that what he shared with her was bigger than lust. Stronger than ambition. He was hers no matter what.

Forever.

That's what he'd said.

Liar.

"Goddamn mother fucking liar!"

Her voice surprised her when it came out thick and slurred. She must have drunk way more than she thought. The rosy glow in the east grew and she held the bottle up to the light, measuring her drunkenness in amber inches.

Fuck.

Her thumb struck the wheel.

Fuck him.

The flame glowed with gentle warmth in her hand.

Fuck them all.

She stood unsteadily on the pitched surface and turned the bottle up. It splashed against her bare feet, surprisingly warm, and ran down the roof away from her, soaking into the shingles as it went. Her eyes lifted again to the sunrise, which in another mood she might have considered a beautiful promise of a fresh new day.

The tiny flame in her hand seemed more promising to her at the moment.

She crouched down and touched it to the wet spot at her feet and it caught, dancing licks of pale blue chasing each other down the roof in the direction the liquid had run. It was mesmerizing and for a few minutes she just stood there, caught in its dim glow.

Time to go.

The edge of the roof cut into her fingers as she lowered herself down, feet seeking the purchase she knew was there. She'd done this a hundred times before, climbing down from her secret getaway spot. Of course she wasn't usually quite this drunk.

Where the fuck was that window sill?

Her toes reached, stretching further than she knew they needed to and her fingers trembled with the effort of holding on. Her head spun from whiskey and panic and her legs frantically bicycled against the vinyl siding.

She looked down trying to see her foothold, but all she saw was the driveway, blurred and wobbly, impossibly far away.

And getting closer.

Shit.

Warm sunlight spread over the house as the light dimmed in her eyes. The thick liquid running down the driveway toward the gutter slowly turned from black to red as the earth lit up. On the roof the blue flames burned themselves out and disappeared. In the driveway lay broken things.

An empty bottle.

A silver lighter.

And a girl.