It was 13 years ago. I was 7 at the time. My family of nine were all home. My six siblings, who were Rachelle(10), Romli(8), Reagan(4), Rylie(15), Raymond(17), and Ralph(5), were all asleep, except for me, Rosalyn, or Rose as many people called me. I was wide awake. I was on the computer when my parents walked in and told me to go to bed. I said okay, but we all knew I was going to finish what I was doing. They just didn't know what I was looking up. I was looking up how to start a fire.
Now don't get me wrong, I didn't want to hurt anyone; I just thought that touching fire would help me to feel "pain".
I went downstairs and followed every step. "Wood? Check. Lighter? Check. Open the fl—" I'm interrupted from my thoughts as my sister Rachelle game downstairs asking what I was doing. I simply said "I'm cold".
She shrugged and went back upstairs.
"Now where were we," I think to myself, "okay looks like I got everything." I lit the match and the fire had been started. Thinking that I'd been successful, I tried to touch the flame, but something told me to stop. Something... or someone? I turn around and it's Reagan telling me I'll get hurt.
Duh. That's the point. I'm trying to feel hurt.
That's when I notice it. The house is...cloudy? Smoke is rapidly flowing out of the fireplace and seeps into the floors and the ceilings. I can't stop coughing. Why is this happening? This doesn't happen when Mom and Dad do it.
That is when I realized that I didn't open the flap. That stupid flap. It's what lets the smoke out through the chimney. Oh my god. Ohmygod. Ohmygod.
No. I can't lose focus. Is this what they call panic?
I run to my parents room, grabbing Reagan as I fly across the house. I'm screaming and pounding on every door as I reach their room. They'll know what to do. They come out of the door and look at me, panicked. I say, "fire.. fire FIRE!!" I
"..crap!" Dad says with a worried expression.
The next moments moved as if it were slow motion. I rush out of the house with Reagan and my parents get out everyone else. One, two, three, four, five, six... where are the rest? As soon as I notice the missing number, it's too late. The house collapses leaving Raymond, Romli, and Mom inside. The fire fighters arrive, but it's too late.
They're dead. Mom, and Romli and Raymond are dead.
And it's all my fault.
It was the first time I'd felt something: grief, panic, and guilt.
