My entry for the On Fire contest.

Please critique harshly! I have comma and punctuation problems. So please note those especially and help me out here.

Thanks!

-Mizz-Iceberg

P.S. I've added a bit more to this piece, so please edit that part for me.

(inspired by Picture #6)

Revenge

Standing still, in the cold windless night, I watched my house afire. I stood watching as it crackled and burned; the fire leaping and greedily feeding on the wooden house.

I stood still, hidden among the trees, watching.

I watched my mother on the other side, weeping with her head on my stepfather’s shoulder. He consoled her. My little step brother, Ben, rubbed his eyes drowsily. He was sleepy.

Of course he was. It was two in the morning.

He did not fully understand. It would all come to him in the morning. The full meaning of what was happening. Right now he cared for nothing but his sleep.

My family was in their pajamas. I stood fully dressed, glancing at my shoes.

As the flames reached higher and higher, my mother shrieked louder and I could sense she was losing hope. She shrieked my name pulling at her hair. My stepfather hushed her saying it would be alright. I couldn't see their faces, they were facing the house. Or what remained of it.

“Janice!” My mother yelled at the house then turned around shaking Dan, my stepfather. "Do something, she's in there."

"Ellen I can't do anything" he said softly, rubbing my mother's back.

"Mommy, I'm sleepy" Ben whined pulling at her. My mother ignored him.

"Oh God, No! Please. No! Janice." cried mother as a part of the house fell with a soft thud. She ran forward towards the house, yelling my name. Dan pulled her back.

"No Ellen." He said sternly.

She tried to shrug him off, crying, but he held her back. She turned around once again glaring at Dan. I could see her face now. There were tears flowing down her face. Her hair was a mess.

"You don't understand Dan. My baby's in there. She's in that house!" she shrieked punching him furiously. He held her tight.

I didn't bother to tell my mother I was out here, safe. I didn't bother to tell her I set the house on fire. I looked down at the ground pushing the toe of my shoe in the dirt making a hole. It was all Dan's fault. His fault that our house was on fire. His fault that he and his whiny son came into our family. We had been so perfect together; Mom and I. She had been mine; only mine.

We used to watch movies late at night, giggling at the funny parts together. We used to sit by the fireplace on windy evenings with cups of hot chocolate in our hands. I remember how I used to help her with bills. I used to be so important to her. She would ask me for help in everything. She needed me so much. I loved being needed. We were such close friends.

And then he had to come and ruin it all for us.

Now it was him Mom giggled with. He was the one she shared cozy nights by the fireplace with. It was him she turned to when she was depressed. I seemed to have faded into the background.

I remember the night Mother had told me.

"I've met someone Janice." she told me softly. I was sitting in my room doing my homework. She had come in quietly with a sober expression on her face. We talked about this and that for a while. Then she suddenly said those words.

‘I've met someone'

And the way she said it I knew what she meant by 'someone'. We meet people everyday but not those special 'someones.'

She told me how she loved him and he loved her. She told me how they would soon be getting married.

"This has been going on for so long. You never told me?" I asked, hurt.

She sighed. "Janice, I meant to tell you earlier, much earlier but I ... just wasn't so sure how you would take it."

I remember I had yelled at her, hurt. "No! Mom, no! We're so happy together. We don't need anyone. Mom, please. Can't you see that it's just going to make everything more complicated?"

"And besides there's no room in this apartment for another person." I had added, helplessly.

"But Janice, I love him. And I'm so happy." I bit my lips and looked away when she had said that. She held my chin and lifted it up, looking into my eyes. "Don't you want me to be happy?"

"I do Mom. And you are happy. Without him. You don't need him Mom. Remember what happened with Dad? You thought that was love. You thought you were happy. What if he turns out to be the same as him?"

We had argued the whole night and many more days. About five months later, they got married and we moved into an old house far away from the city.

I hated him, and I hated his house. I hated everything to do with him. I hated his bratty little son. I hated Mom for making me move. I hated her for falling in love.

But for Mom's sake I never said much to him. I ignored him completely which was fine as he ignored me too. He pretended, I didn't exist, I wasn't there. I tired to do the same. I didn't even ask him to pass me the salt at the dinner table. But no matter how hard I tried to block him out of my mind, he was always there mocking me.

Secretly we both knew he had won. He had Mom, he was in charge. Mom wasn't just mine anymore. She was his too. I loathed him.

They had both been so happy when they moved in. Thinking about those days just made me feel sick. Mom was all chirpy and smiles. She would laugh so heartedly at Dan's corny jokes. I would come in the house only to see Dan whispering stuff in her ear and her, giggling like teenager. She was happy with the move.

I wasn't.

Dan just had to live in a house so far away from population. What was his problem with people?

Dan pretty much ignored my anger towards him. He ignored me completely. I wanted him to realize my hatred towards him. I wanted him to acknowledge it and take action. But he pretended he never noticed. A cold war started between us. Perhaps it was one-sided. But I spent my time trying to think up of ways to get back at him for what was happening. I wanted to bother him, to annoy him in some way. But how, I used to ask myself. Then one day the answer came to me.

I was sitting in my room looking out the window, watching Dan smoke on the porch. Mom didn’t allow him to smoke inside. Dan was addicted to cigarettes big time. He used to buy the cigarettes in bulk. We bought everything in bulk because we lived quite far away from population.

Staring down at Dan from the window, I realized that I found out Dan’s weakness.

The next day, while Dan was away, I snuck into his den and took out all his cigarettes from his drawer. I cut each cigarette, one by one into tiny little pieces. I even went as far as to pour maple syrup all over them.

This should work, I had told myself. It worked.

I remember how Dan had barged into my room; his face red, looking furious. I remember how I had sensed an unexpected fear in my chest as I saw him advance towards me.

I remember how he had shoved a sticky and sappy piece of cigarette under my nose.

“What the hell were you doing in my den?”

I had looked at the piece in his palm with calm curiosity.

“Whatever do you mean?” I had asked, surprised

“Don’t play games with me.” He seemed even more enraged now.

Then he did it.

Right then, he slapped me. I brought my hand to my cheek, truly surprised. I had looked at him shocked and felt the searing sting of his slap of my cheek.

Then slowly I fully over came my shock. I boiled with anger.

How dare he?

“Don’t you ever go through any of my things again? You hear? EVER!” He had shouted in my face.

I didn’t say anything. I bit my lip, keeping my overflowing anger inside.

He turned around and left the room. I never said anything about it. I never told Mom either. I kept it inside me. Because then I knew, I would do something.

I would show him. No one had the right to slap me. He had no right to touch me. No right at all.

I hated him.

Hate, Hate, Hated him. A fire burned in my chest, different from the kind that was before me. It was my bitterness towards their marriage, towards Dan and towards this house that had drove me to set it on fire.

My mother was sitting on the ground now, and I could see that her shoulder shaking. I couldn't hear her sobs. She was crying silently now. She had lost hope. I enjoyed watching her crying for me. Maybe she now realized what she had been doing the last few months. How she had neglected me. Maybe she was thinking, she should have paid more attention. Maybe she noticed that it didn't bother Dan too much that I was probably dead right now.

I could hear the sirens of the fire trucks in the distance.

Too late, I sneered.

I turned towards the woods, to walk into them and leave the perfect family behind. They didn't seem to need me. They were so perfect. I felt like I was an intruder all the time.

It was how I had planned; after setting the house afire, I would run away.

But now that the time came, I was hesitant.

Where would I go?

I turned around again looking at the huge fire. I had anticipated that I would take great pleasure in watching the house burn down. I thought I would be satisfied with my revenge.

What had I done?