Am I Evil?

                                    

                                          
(Shinsou) 
                          
The flaming orange sparks rise up closer to my mouth. A few bounce off the cigarette and onto my cheeks. It doesn't burn much, I'm used to it by now. My long legs swiftly move across the sidewalk, hitting every other crack in the cement, sending more sparks toward my face. But I don't focus on that, not even at the smoke entering my lungs. I just think about what Kaminari said.
                          
Does he really find them to be cool? Are they not as evil as people say? Am I evil? Questions rain on into my foggy mind. In and out they come and go. They drip in as I feel a drip on the tip of my nose. Then more of that wet pressure on the top of my head. Great. It's raining again. I shouldn't be surprised, though. But even living in Seattle, everything is unexpected. Including the rain. I scoff and put out my cigarette by pressing it down on the closest wall I can find. The cement bricks have a trail of ash against them. Someone from inside the building raises his arms and gives me a look. A "Why the hell would you do that?" look. Giving me more of a reason to think I'm a bad person.
                          
The closer I get to my house, the more the rains starts to pour down. I just want today to be over. I don't even want to go home. I want to go back to the bar where Kaminari is. An actual friend who may accept me for the way I am. My eyes, sexuality, age, choices. Anything that my parents wouldn't like. 
                          
So basically me in general. 
                          
I drop my cigarette in the nearest trashcan, the sparks finally set out. My lungs feel dirty, and messed up. But clean from my horrid thoughts. It's relieving, soothing. Sure it's unhealthy, but I don't get sick often at all. Thanks to my cursed disease. 
                          
Damn Alexandria's Genesis...
                          
I shut my eyes tight, speeding up my pace toward my home. Correction, my house. Nothing is comfortable and homey about that hell hole. I really just want to go back to Kaminari. At least I get to see him tomorrow. I feel my long legs speed up unintentionally as the rain pours down harder and harder. Pressuring down on me. 
                          
It doesn't just feel like rain, it feels like my decisions, my choices. My regrets. I know that running through the rain collects more water than walking, but I just want to get out of it as soon as possible. 
                          
I round yet another corner toward the buildings a couple more blocks down. I reach one of the apartments. A grey, smooth cobblestone. Leading upward toward boarded up windows. Slightly revealing a calming yellow aura into the damp Seattle air. 
                          
There is nothing fucking calming about that house.
                          
I hide away my cigarette package and lighter. Along with my fake ID. I don't need my parents to scold me about something else. I don't need them flipping out on me because of the way they treat me. I would just talk back, no doubt. I hate them. They say they love me, but I don't believe them. 
                          
I walk up the chipped concrete steps toward a wooden door. The color of a royal blood red. The knob a rusted golden from the rain. Reflecting a dim light from the lantern right above the mail container. I always thought it wasn't much of a box shape.
                          
I take a deep breath and enter the apartments. I take the elevator upward to the third floor out of four. Room six is where hell belongs. Add two more and it would suit it perfectly. My hand shakes as it reaches up to twist the fake silver door knob. I pull back for a few seconds, hesitant. Thinking about what the people living in that room would do if they found my cigarettes and lighter. And of course my fake ID. 
                          
I finally reach up to the handle and twist it to my right. The door creaks open to reveal an empty home. Thank god they weren't home yet. I sigh in relief as I throw my bag into my own small room and flop onto the couch. Realizing that I have to get up again to press on the television, I groan as I let my legs lead me toward the stand. My index finger presses down on a button, leading me to see static on the screen.