Page 1 of Anarchy Missing

CHAPTER ONE - CASE

Something is wrong with me.

Heat consumes my body. Snow melts under my feet, pooling into a puddle of water until small tendrils of steam swirl their way up my bare legs, surrounding me in a mist that disappears somewhere around my torso.

The city is calling.

The blue-black clouds hanging low in the sky are crowning the mountains, proclaiming them kings and queens. And the new cathedrals peeking up from the tall buildings in the distance, which Thomas started building last spring, and which mark the four points of the compass on each side of the city, stretch up like they are reaching for those clouds.

A sharp pain shoots through my head and I have to close my eyes, shut the world out, and take a moment.

I take a lot of moments these days.

And still… there is the heat.

I am fire. I am burning up. I will combust, I know it. I will explode into nothing but fire and agony if I don’t do it.

Don’t do it.

But the knife is there. In my hand, poised above my skin. It carves the anarchy symbol into the hard, muscular flesh of my upper left arm with less precision than it did last time. It will produce jagged edges of skin, deep red cuts, and… relief.

Each time I get a little less careful. But it doesn’t matter. Because each time the skin heals over and hides my moment of weakness.

The blood drips down my arm, hot. So hot it burns my skin red. Leaves a streak. But it too will be gone before anyone knows.

No one will know.

The heat escapes in the form of red light and steam. And now I’m wrapped up in the mist from head to toe.

A chill runs through my body and it feels so good.

The city is calling.

There is a voice in my head. Clear. Concise. Commanding.

The city is calling me.

And so I answer.