But who am I? How do I fit into this story of fire and pain; this
story made of broken puzzle pieces?
His laugh, warm and rich, lighting up the room,
Quick fingering weaving, showing me how,
Sand under my toes,
Cruel whispers ‘pyro’, ‘insane’, ‘killed’.
I’m rocking on the floor now, hands over my ears, trying to block out
everything; those never ending wary eyes, whispers following me, the
people who pull their children away from me, the taunts and insults,
the doctors, all of it! I want it to end, I want someone to have mercy
and end it. But worst of all the stares, everyone always watching, like
I’ma wild animal, trapped in a cage, straining to break free. I wanted to
explain, to show them how pretty fire is, how it doesn’t care what my
file says, or deign to listen to the rumours that followme like a plague.
His eyes, calm and gentle, even as he lay dying,
My screams as the light faded from them,
Dragging myself from the burning ruins,
Rain on the wind,
Rain too late to save him;
To save me.
No, no I didn’t. I screammy innocence to these unfeeling walls. I beg
them to believe me, to reassure me that I didn’t do it. That I didn’t
kill the only person who ever accepted me, ever trusted me, ever
welcomed me; who ever, ever cared for the poor, broken thing that is
my soul. But I amnot innocent, I amhorribly guilty, andI amamonster.
Maybe this is God’s way of punishing me, trapping me in this
empty, faceless room. But I do not feel this punishment; it does not
affect me, for I have already punished myself in the only way that
matters. I have killed the only person who will ever, ever love me,
and now I am dead inside.
I sink to my knees and pray. Not for my soul; I doubt I even have
one. No, I pray for Daniel’s soul. I pray that it made its way to heaven.
I pray that he found happiness.
And I pray that one day he might forgive me.
And then I remember.