Burning

I open my eyes to see the room is tinted a red-orange colour. I never knew it could be so hot in the winter. I take off my cardigan and throw it on the floor; I try to get back to sleep but I can't seem to get the strange noise that my cardigan made when it hit the floor, it was rather like a sizzle.

I sit up immediately and look around me at the the floor. The candle had fallen off the bedside table and lit the wooden flooring on fire! I scream, "Help! Help! Fire! Fire!"

My father comes running in and burst through the flames and carries me out of the room. Tom my younger brother comes running over;
"Tom, get the sand buckets and the hose! Bethany, darling, do you think your well enough to wake everyone up and call the fire brigade?"
"Yes, Papa."
I run off to wake Mama, Seth and Mary and ring the fire brigade.
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Mama, Seth, Mary and I stand outside in the cold waiting for Papa and Tom to come out safely. The firefighters exit our home first, I see Papa carrying a very burnt Tom. "He's okay!" Papa shouts. I see relief flood onto Mamas' face. 

Tom went to the hospital that day and it was all my fault. When we went home, I ran to my room, it was burnt with one corner untouched. I walk over and sit in the small space. I stay here for weeks, crying. Mama brings me food laid out on a tray.

Each day a different flower was placed in a small vase on the tray. I place each one around the room. They take away the smell of burnt wood.

The day Tom came back all healed, I couldn't look him in the eye. I started to come downstairs and join in with daily activities. I would never talk to anyone though. I know it hurt my family to see me like this, but they also new what I was feeling was true.

Tom comes into my room one night, it has now been fixed and the furniture has been replaced.

He tells his accident wasn't my fault. He said that he tripped over the fire hose. I laughed and he laughs with me. He has always been a bit of a klutz. He tells me he loves me and that it wasn't my fault the fire started.

I'm so confused.

How could it not be my fault?

It was my candle that started the fire.

Tom gets up and starts to walk to the door. He speaks still facing the door, "How did the candle fall over?"

He swiftly opens the door and shuts it, leaving me confused and surprised.

I whisper, "No."