I'll let it burn

Let me pretend to be surprised, okay?

I've been walking for what feels like hours, but let's be realistic, it's probably been under thirty minutes. Who gives a shit, I'm freezing either way. Being alone is a foreign feeling, but it's just how it's been since that day. But walking here makes me realize the memories of you will be there to keep me company, for better or for worse. 

I finally entered the place I swore I wouldn't be found, the graveyard on the outskirts of town. Walking past graves makes me feel uneasy, the knowledge that under each gravestone a person lays. Reduced to nothing but one of many headstones.

It's a shame, really, that death strips away your identity and replaces it with nothing more than being just another grave. 

I finally found yours, of course, the headstone is crooked. You've always stood out. Even though you mostly thought of it as a curse, I always knew I'd mean you'd be blessed enough to be remembered. But I never dared to imagine that it'd be like this.

I finally reached out to touch your headstone, and a wave of a grim feeling went through me. You'd rather die than not speak up. You always asked me if I found it better to speak or to die, seems like you made your choice. Even without my answer. 

I sat there, staring at your grave. Lost in thought. How do I want to remember you? matter of fact, do I want to remember you at all?

Yes, I decide.

Forgiving you was easy, for me at least. 

But I'll never forget how you spent the last days of your life, in fact, I don't think anyone in this town will. 

 I don't know for how long I sat there, but when I came back to my senses I was freezing. I know that was a given, but let me pretend to be surprised, okay? Somehow I got a little warmth from the idea you might be watching over me, which is stupid and childish but in the moment it helped. 

I stood up, wanting to leave. Desperate to leave this place, not just this graveyard but this whole town. Did you even consider the mess you'd leave me with? Probably not, considering what you did I don't think you had many thoughts about anyone else at all. 

I glance over to the back of your grave, someone taped the news article to the back of your headstone. I let out a humorless chuckle, tears forming in my eyes. 

How distasteful.

Bending down, I rip the article loose and look down on it. I wipe my tears away with my free hand as I begin walking back to the entrance. 

In my head I was running, tears streaming down my face as I narrowly dotch other graves. It's a pitiful sight, I admit. Even in my head, it looks pathetic. So, I don't. I try to compose myself because seeing me crash out is exactly what they want. It'd prove I'm just like you, wouldn't it? Driven by nothing more than raw emotion, you know what people call that? Animalistic. 

I looked down to see that I'd clenched my fist, crumbling the news article. 

I keep walking.

God, this place is huge.

The longer I walk the more I can feel the lit on my emotion begin to burst, deep breaths. 

In and out, in and out, in and out, inand out inandoutinandoutinandout inandoutinandoutinandoutinandoutinandoutinandout inandoutinandoutinandoutinandoutinandoutinandout inandoutinandoutinandoutinandoutinandoutinandout 

I fumble my hand into my pocket, fishing out my lighter. I run my thumb over it and hold the flame under the news article. 

The off-white paper burning slowly, this is what you did, isn't it? Watching as it burns, how the burned. Then I watched how you burned. 

"Our house.." My voice is rough, not used to speaking. "You burned it to the ground."

I pause.

"You did everything to protect me, but what am I supposed to do with no one? You took our last parent with you in the flames."

I drop the burning news article, and just like you, I'll let it burn.