The House that Burned

Getaway Plan

After all his mistakes, it came down to this. She towered over him like a skyscraper with a menacing smile on her face. She knew she had won. He knew he had lost. With the match in her hand, she looked so powerful, almost godly, although that was the least of his worries. With a few final words, the match fell onto the woodpile below, quickly rising up around Albert, a man who had managed to destroy his life single-handedly, and not even know it. By the time the fire was at his waist, he had already slumped unconscious, at the time of which, she had already left, throwing the matchbox into the flames behind her.

The book fell to the floor. It landed hard on my feet, but I was numb to the pain. I felt stupid for believing a wadge of paper, but there were things I had read that nobody else knew. Some were thoughts I hadn't even spoken aloud. A few lines of ink were my brutal death sentence. Every moment I lived from now was one I would spend in anticipation of the moment to come. I couldn't let this happen to me. I would run far, far away to the other side of the Earth. I would live in complete isolation; avoiding anyone I knew and everyone I didn't. I would especially avoid Freida. That was obvious, seeing as she wanted me dead. Nobody else fit the description. I would run for all my life. I would overcome this. I wasn't going to die this way, not on my watch.

I strode up to the counter where the owner was waiting calmly. Nobody else was in the shop and I wondered if anybody even lived here. I placed the book on the counter and waited while she scanned it out. She held it up to the light, as though examining it's cover. And then, without any warning, she brought it down on my head.