An unforgettable sin, yet unforgivable.
Childish play may kill others. I cannot forgive myself for what I have done. At 8 years of age, I have seen death with my own eyes. Burnt blood filled my hands.
My father was working overnight in a hospital in a rural and remote area, while my family slept in a wooden house where it was safe. I was unable to sleep and went downstairs to amuse myself. I gathered around the stove to get some warmth and noticed sparks appear as fireworks on a summer night. They were beautiful, and I wanted to see more.
I found wooden fragments with a big smile on my face and went back to the sparks and laid them on. Immediately a flame arose, and I wanted to see it even more.
I glimpsed a small wooden crate at an angle five meters away and added it to the fire. I was scared but as an 8-year-old child strangely calm, I tried to put out the fire with a heavy blanket, but it only caught on fire.
The burning blanket caught the floor, the wall, and some furniture on fire. The fire seemed to be growing bit by bit, went upstairs to my mother to tell her what happened, but she did not wake up. Neither did my sister and brother. I was not brave to wake them up. The fire advanced to the second floor and entered the rooms without an apology. At the end of the corridor, there is a window. I would go and jump from it. This is what I thought and did.
The window is high, the first foot goes through it. The fire is reaching me. The second foot goes through but I smelled something unique like the meat my mother used to cook on the grill. It took me a few moments and I jumped and the fire caught on my T-shirt, but I escaped!
I sat down waiting for my father to come home with the sun. Neighbors gathered, and some of them called the fire station, but it was too late. My brothers, sister and mother were gone.
When I was asked about the incident, I told them that I ran away from the room’s window when the fire reached the entrance. My father’s eyes were in shock.
We had to move to my grandparents’ house since then. For the loss of his children and pregnant wife, he committed suicide 2 weeks after leaving me alone to face this life, and I never blamed him, to be honest, I mean why would I blame him? I am the murderer here!
I have been taking medication, going to therapy sessions, and blaming myself. I began drinking alcohol at a young age and tried to commit suicide a couple of times. My first addiction ruined my life, but the weird thing is that I am still addicted to fire.
