Stop it - Short story

'Stop it'
'Stop what?'
'You know exactly what'
'I'm sorry but I'm not guessing; we both know what happened last time'
'Really now? Really?'

That was my cue to apologize. No need letting this escalate, not now, especially not now. After all, last time didn't end so well...

Two peas in a pod, birds of same feather, made for each other, chip off the old block; terms used by those without 'ness'(that's how we described them) to refer to Sarah and I (the latter creeped me out terribly though, made me feel like a sugar daddy without the actual sugar). We had met in one of those terrible bucas, the ones were there's enough time to just eat, anything else would just seem like one stop away from insanity.
But there she was, looking almost lost, like a nuke in a hay stack. The rest wasn't history as they say but it was bliss; a sneak preview of heaven by the angels. Time with her was endless, everything else worthless; all that mattered, was her. Of course the sceptic in me started to rear its ugly head as it always does. I used to think the Lord (yes I'm religious, Darwin just wasn't my kind of guy) made me this way as a fail safe, a control switch of some sorts. Whether this was how I orchestrated my own destruction or not, I'd never know, and frankly, I couldn't care less.

Guess whom I met on the train today. Simple question. Now it sounds so dumb, so trivial, but then it was real; one thing connected to the other and before I knew it, I was livid... we were livid. A couple of minutes down the average swipes and all of a sudden words, words that couldn't be taken back. I should have gone after her, stopped her but that pride, that fucking pride, made me sit back. After all, she wasn't crazy enough to venture into the storm. Nobody was that crazy...

'You should really start considering your options', she said, 'I wish I could help you but you know the rules'. A reassuring smile stretched across her face which seemed to erase all my problems for a short spell. Six months after Sarah's funeral, here I was, in a dark room, with the only other person crazy enough to venture into that fateful storm, however, he did so in a white BMW, currently parked in a garage with a dented fender. We were all motionless though the heavens knew only one of us still possessed the power to move at will.

'Stop it', I heard her say once more, while I reluctantly pulled my bloodied fingertips, made obvious by the flashing red and blue lights, from my teeth…