The tendrils of smoke crept under the door as the flames from the broken hearts grow and grow. The night air is filled with the smell of death and suffering. Thunder roars above our heads and lightning tears open the smoke infested sky.

It’s raining and I’m crying. The salty rain from my eyes are mixing in with the tears of the sky. I can’t help but watch the fiery blaze that I once called home burn to the ground. The screams of the woman I once called Mother are burning into my head like the flames are burning her skin…

That was the night I died inside. I may be alive in a physical sense, but all my feelings for anything and anyone have died. For so long I was happy. Now.. Now all I know is suffering and pain and no happiness. No one can save me. I am not all right and I’ve come to deal with it. Though I have many scars, both emotional and physical, I still seem surprisingly healthy in both ways, except to my therapist and family. I haven’t had a family since I witnessed my parents’ demise.