The House that Burned

Like Wildfire

Never had I ever experienced a silence so deafening. Every breath, every movement, every second, was one of rebellion. The darkness shrouded my small figure. Inside, I was trembling, but outside my hands were stable and strong. It wasn't possible for me to feel guilt or regret. I was superhuman, incapable of stooping down to such emotions. The match was my weapon of choice, so innocent until licked with flames, and fuelled with revenge. With a slow drag of my hand, a glow emerged before me. I held the match between two fingers, watching the small flame trickle down the wood toward my hand. The flame grew bigger and bigger, flickering in all directions. It dared for me to let go, but I didn't.

The heat was excruciating, scalding my skin, and catching my breath. I grit my teeth in determination. I wasn't in pain. I wasn't. The light was fading as the wood turned as black as the sky. I could keep the match in my hands, let it go out, and pretend this never happened. Or I could thrust it at the building before me and run away until the only reminder I had ever been there in the first place was a small square in the distance, slowly being engulfed by flames.

The gate sounded before me, and I entered the room I had slowly become accustomed to. My fellow roommates raised their eyebrows in greeting as I sat down on my bed and let the wave of realization crash down over me. In only a few hours from now, my sentence would be over. I would be free of the part of my life I never wanted to associate with again. Burning her house down was my revenge. Now that I had fulfilled that, there was nothing left for me to do. In a way, I felt deflated and empty. For over a year I had been living on spite and vengeance. While in prison, I had to defend myself and sleep with one eye open. Now that I was to be released, I wasn't sure how I would cope.

As soon as I could, I ran. I ran as far and as fast as I ever had, not stopping until I was on the brink of collapsing. I vowed to never go back to that place again. Not even if they had to get someone the physically drag me there. I looked up from the pavement where I had been bent double. Prison had been torturing for me. I had been offered pre-release custody, but I didn't even have to think before turning it down. I was not going back to my house, let alone be confined to it. I didn't want a halfway house, or community corrections. I wanted to serve my sentence and never hear about it again. This was the turning of a new leaf for me.