Another Lovely Day in the Neighbourhood

Flash didn’t want to move.

He was tucked under the covers, curled in on himself to be as small as possible. The red welts had started to hurt more and more. He felt like he was in a constant state of panic, always waiting for the next round of hurt to come. His heart pounded in his ears from dread and fear.

A body pressed up against him. Nails dug into his back.

“Don’t you want me back?”

No.

“You can’t ever lose what we had.”

He wanted to.

Two hands ensnared his body. It was like being squeezed by a vice.

“You’ll never be rid of me.”

Flash threw off the covers and got out of bed. He pulled on what clothes he could and grabbed the doorknob to his bedroom. He stopped just short of turning it as he noticed the rest of the area around him.

It was definitely his room. Punk rock posters, a red motif, and all the kinds of things a guy his age would have… even if that age felt very much in question as time wore on.

But where he expected solid objects were instead cheap cardboard substitutes. Flimsy standees meant to look like what his room was.

How had he never noticed before?

He stepped outside into the burg. A cul-de-sac that fed into a road that stretched infinitely toward the horizon. Eight houses, each themed after their owner, were arranged evenly around the dead end circle. Painted cardboard held up by pitiful stands of weak paper.

Plastered on several of the standees were more campaign posters. ‘Call ?#$-^&*-@#!^ for help’. He refused.

“Where’s your girlfriend?”

Moondancer stood nearby, a bored expression on her face and a book in one hand.

“I don’t know…” Flash said, then louder, “I don’t know!”

“...You should find her then,” Moondancer stated.

“And how do I do that?”

She jerked her head toward something behind him. He looked in the indicated direction to find a metal stop sign.

“A town entirely of cardboard. A single post made of metal,” Moondancer remarked. “Does that give you any ideas?”

Flash grabbed the pole with both hands and braced. He pulled. And pulled. And pulled. It popped out of the ground, nearly unbalancing him. He hefted it over one shoulder.

“Let me know if you find anything,” Moondancer said. “Might be the only way out.”

Then Flash took off.

Those stupid houses? Smashed.

Those stupid fences? Smashed.

Those stupid shrubs? Smashed.

Structure after structure fell to Flash’s stop sign of destruction. It felt great, smashing everything to pieces without a care in the world. Even though his body ached and his hands felt raw from clutching the signpost too hard, he still kept breaking everything in his way. He needed to. It was the only thing left for him to do.

Bursts of laughter bubbled out of him each time he smashed something. The neighbourhood. The school. That stupid auditorium. That even stupider bar. Nothing was left standing. All of it would succumb to Flash.

It made the hurt lessen. Rage filled the gaps. Elation from cathartic release kept him going long past when he should have stopped.

Eventually, nothing was left.

A void of white in every direction.

The Cardboard Town reduced to nothing.

He dropped to his knees, exhausted both physically and emotionally. He took ragged breaths. His face felt stretched from smiling too hard.

One of Celestia’s posters was on the ground in front of him.

‘Call ?#$-^&*-@#!^, Flash.’

Flash had never felt a need to call before. Never wanted to. Inexplicably, he found himself pulling his phone out of his pocket, dialing the number and bringing the speaker to his ear.

Ring. Ring. Click.

“It was never about you, Flash.”

He let his phone hand drop, hanging loosely next to him.

“What’s the question, Flash?”

He looked up into Timber’s neutral face.

“...Is it my fault?” He asked.

“No,” Timber said. “It was always hers.”

Flash hiccupped. A bubble of emotion that finally broke him. He was crying. Snot and tears ran down his face. He wailed because it was all he was capable of doing in the moment.

Timber kneeled down. He held Flash tight against him.

He weathered the hurt to let it heal.