The Dollhouse

Chapter 41: Fire

Evelyn

With wearing feet I walk back to the house. My pace is anything but brisk. My mind is anything but at peace. I killed a man. I killed the father of my child. I killed a monster.

Should I be at peace?  Should I be running like hell from this fortress? Should I scream from the pain I have endured. 

My soul has grown dark and tormented by my tormentor. Who I was before I came here, is not who I am now.

I find my way to a door on the side of the house that I have never set my eyes on before and quickly realize that it is a garage.

I try three keys before I find the perfect match and walk inside the dark building.

I quickly find the light switch beside me and flip it on, illuminating everything around me in its horrendous iridescent light.

Two cars are parked in it. A fancy black BMW and a white Range Rover.  I begin to walk towards the Range Rover and open the door when all of a sudden two red gas cans next to a snowblower catch my attention. The cherry red exterior of the cans calls to me, beckons me over.

A fire burns in my belly and my eyes light up as a the edge of my lip quirks up ever so slightly.

I quickly enter the car and press the garage door opener. It feels so foreign to drive once again that I gun it a bit to hard in reverse and gasp in surprise as I make it out of the garage and a bit of the ways down the driveway. I get out and slam the  door of the car shut and head back to the garage. I walk over to gas cans and take one in each hand and walk back into the house.

Hannah's body lays in a heap on the ground. Her eyes are open and the color has drained from her once beautiful face. I step over her and walk further into the house and to the kitchen.

I rifle through the drawers until I find what I desire, matches.

I spot Laurel's discarded body in the living room and squeeze my eyes closed as I walk past it and up the stairs. She didn't deserve this. None of us did.

It is like someone else is moving my body as I move throughout the house. I have inner thoughts calling out a multitude of warnings to me but I can't decipher what they are saying because only one thought is ringing out over them all. Burn it down.

I reach the library and throw open the door. The large table like desk in it looms forebodingly at me. I place one gas can on the ground and take the other and pour it over the top as the memory of my rape haunts me.

The gasoline falls in eager streams over the table as I walk away, pick up the other gas can and continue a trail out of the room and down the hall to the bedroom.

I use the other can to coat the bed and then make a trail down the stairs and to the back door when I hear a feeble raspy, "Help."

My wide eyes tear to the basement door as I hear wheezing and coughing. I thrown it open to see Abby covered in blood midway up the stairs. She looks at me with pleading eyes, but that look of despise still burns behind it.

"Hel-," she wheezes before I slam the door shut once more and continue the trial of gasoline pit the back door. In another life, I would've helped. In another life I would feel guilt, but In this life I feel no guilt, I feel nothing.

The strike of the match against the matchbox sings out in the snowy silence.
I hold it up to my face watching the orange flame dance before me for a few seconds before tossing it onto the gasoline. I wait and I watch as the flames lick up the floor and spread. My lip twitches upward once more before I turn on my heels and walk towards the driveway where my chariot awaits.

Even though it is freezing, and I am inadequately dressed, I stand there in the driveway for some time and watch the fires crawl and consume the home of my nightmares, the dollhouse. I wait until it is up in flames before getting into the car.

I turn  the ignition on and press the gas pedal down and speed off down the driveway. It is finally over.

Do you think it is finally over?

Did you expect Abby to still be alive and  Evelyn to disregard it and still set the house on fire?

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