Fires Around Me

Burn

There are no windows in this room. There have never been, and now there never will be. There is one door in this room. The door is locked from the other side. And a beam fell in front of it about an hour ago. The beam is too heavy to move by myself. But there is no one else here. I am alone.

I find it rather fitting. I'm not an angel by any means. So, I have been sentenced to hell. The thought almost makes me chuckle. But I don't want the black substance in the air to move into my lugs, so I refrain from showing my mirth.

There is no escape. I've known that since the girl I thought was someone I could call friend shoved me in here, locked the door, poured gasoline all over the house, and then set fire to it all.

I didn't have much to live for anyway.

No boyfriend, no job, no friends. My parents are too drugged up to notice me most of the time, unless it's to beg for money to fuel their fire.

That does make me chuckle. The thickening smoke makes me choke.

I don't know the motive. I doubt I'll ever find out. But that doesn't matter to me really. I deserve it anyway. That's probably exactly what she was thinking.

I feel tired now. It's hard to breath. I think I hear shouting, but I'm not entirely sure. Probably firefighters, but they're too late.

Because I'm already...

"She's dead. I'm sorry."

The firefighter gently places the sixteen year old's body in front of her parents and best friend. News crews are crawling all over the scene.

The best friend muffles her sobs in her hand. "Why would she set the house on fire like that? She had so much to live for!"

Once the camera crews and the firefighters are gone, a one hundred dollar bill is subtly slipped into her back pocket along with a mutter of "Good job."