The Family Across the Street by Nicole Trope

35

I gulp in the heated air. I’m covered in sweat but I’m nearly there. Ten, nine, eight… I slow down but I’m getting there. Who will I be after this? Where will I go? I know I will have to run. I will have to let others find them, others walk through this house and discover three people who were and now are not. Three people that I should have loved enough not to do this. I imagine myself somewhere far away, living out my life, holding on to the memory of this day of heat and hate. Can a person live like that, I wonder? Can they wake up in the morning and drink their coffee and know with each passing minute that they are the reason that others are no longer here? I began this believing that’s possible. I would make sure everyone who has ever caused me pain has paid for it and then I would move forward into a new life, free of years of baggage. But I know it’s not really possible. I am weighed down by it all and weary of how heavy it is.

Seven, six… I feel tears pressing, my throat thick with grief, as I feel the truth inside me, as I understand what I have known all day long. Whoever comes into this house, whoever uncovers what has happened here, will discover four people. Not three but four.

I want this done. I want it over with.