Creepy urban legends

CAUTION

That's what the police tape said when the accident happened. I was 10 when it occurred but I felt more like 7.
Memories were all I had left, nothing else. My happiest memory is Stephen. Stephens eyes glinted out from under the black ash that surrounded his face, the words "follow me, we'll get through this, everything will be all right." Then the crashing of beams and hard sparks that flew out from the space where Stephen's face had just been, where it had been smiling, telling me things would be ok. Then the next thing I knew strong arms held me and pulled me out of the flames, while my friends body rolled by on the stretcher a white cotton blanket pulled over his body and a burnt arm that hung loosely out of the tight hug of Velcro straps. "Two years" that's what they said. They said it would take two years for the pain of emotional memories to all fade. But the pain would never be healed. I had killed Stephen. I was the one to go into the house, I was the one to bump the candle, I was the one to see the apparitions.
The medication didn't work and neither did the therapies. My mom came and talked to me one day and said "honey I don't feel right, after the fire people have been ignoring me." But I just told her "mom don't you remember when you jumped in the fire to save me we both died from the fumes." She looked confused she stared at me and said "are we in the asylum right now or are we somewhere else."
"Mom were in hell"