Red grabs a pen and paper from then kitchen drawer, still smelling the fresh coats of paint of the wall. Drops were on her overalls, her fingertips and yea..maybe a few drops in her hair as well. She walks out on to the front porch to sit under the gazeebo,watching the painters and other contractor roam in and out of the house in their hardhats and toolbelts. "Where the fuck is my furniture.." she mumbles to herself as she starts writing..

It was Zane's cold nose on my cheek that woke me, the night of the fire. Thank God I didnt choose to sleep naked or the neighbors might have gotten a show. I was able to pull the old trunk from the livingroom..just barely. You wouldn't think that papers would be so damn heavy...but add the few costumes and one or two photo albums..not to mention a bit of smoke inhalation. Zane barked the whole time as if it was going to do any good..like he had special dog powers or something..pfffft. I guess I should've called the fire department..but there was no point. It didn't spread to any of the nearby lands or the trailerpark..so like a curious cat, I sat on the trunk and watched from the road..my house...my father's childhood home burn to ashes.
I took it as a sign when I walked through the rubble after the flames finished their meal, seeing that the den with the fireplace was completely gone and it was also the source of the fire. Troy was haunting me from hell, setting fire to the one place I called home...sort of. I felt chills up my back, digging through the ashes, thinking his body was going to reappear, his rough hands to grab me by the neck and choke me to death. "If I die....you're coming with me.." I imagined him saying as he'd squeeze the life from me. The past few nights my dreams always ended that way....Troy strangling me to death. Why? I feel very little..if anything at all. The butcher took his life..not me..so why was his face still in my damaged mind?

She wipes a bead of sweat from her forehead, looking up at the sky, paranoid that things were a tad hot this morning.She hears motorcyles riding by, up and down the road. Fun. She looks back at the paper and continues..

Was I meant to live or die in the fire? Obviously Zane's answer is a definite live since he is the only constant thing in my life beside my two jobs. "eye for an eye' Troy said..funny my father said the same thing too in one of his letters' to Bud...It turns out that he knew all along that Bud killed my mother out of a jealous rage and I...have the flaming red hair just like her..was a constant reminder that neither Troy or Bud would have no peace until everyone else around them had none. Is it my turn to find peace? Is there even such a thing?

"I can see the writing on the wall, can't ignore this war. At the end of it all...who am I living for?"- Katy Perry