The Last Night

15

Why didn't I save my family?
Why did I set the house on fire?
Why am I so stupid?
Why?
Why?
Why?
The fire was put out at 11:13 in the morning. I was immediately taken to the hospital with severe burns. When I woke up, there was a police officer standing by my bed. I was tangled in a web of IVs and an oxygen mask was slipped over my face.  I looked at the clock beside the cot. 6:42 PM. I couldn't breathe. My lungs were on fire. I couldn't feel the pain of my skin peeling off.
At around 7:15, the officer came up to me and said, "We've been investigating the remains of the house and it seems that it was started with milk in the oven. Do you know who put the milk in the oven?"
I remained silent.
  "Dear, who put the milk in the oven?"
Silence.
"It's okay," The man said. "It wasn't your fault."
"Yes, it was!" I sobbed, croaking and struggling to get a word out. "It's always my fault. My brother left because of me. Everyone at school hates me because of me. And I just killed my family because of me."
Oh GOD! Why is this happening?
I collapsed to the ground.
"But it wasn't your intention. Nothing's your fault unless you intend on doing it."
I wept like crazy. I wept and wept and wept and wept.
And the man just stood at my side.
And then, I said, "Can I look inside?"
The man sighed. "You're in a critical situation of harm here..."
"Just take a picture and show me. Can't you do that?"
And so I fell asleep. At 3:12 AM, the officer was once again beside me. He looked as though he had been dozing in and out of sleep. He opened his eyes.
"Hey," the officer said. "How ya doin'?"
"I'm----" I whispered. "Do you have the picture?"
He waved his iPhone in the air and handed it to me.
And when I saw the pictures, I knew this wasn't my house.
The door was gone.
Inside, everything was black. The chairs were black, the table, the oven.
Even the milk inside the oven was black.
You did this, I told myself. This is your fault.
And it was.
If I hadn't been so stupid to put the milk in the oven, then none of this would have happened.
And then in the background of one picture, I saw a corpse. A black corpse so skinny, her ribs could easily be seen. Her eyes were slammed closed and she looked like she was screaming when she died. Her clothes were shredded into soot rags.
It was Peyton.
Oh Peyton. Poor Peyton. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. You're the best sister in the whole wide world and you didn't deserve to die.
I'll miss you Peyton. Come back.
Come back to your peppy, sweet little self.
I don't believe in reincarnation.
But I want to believe that Peyton will be reincarnated.
I wish it were true.
And I guess I'll never know.