All My Fault

After a few moments, finally able to think once more, only one sentence continually runs through my head.

What have I done?

“It’s my fault,” I utter, my jaw, along with the rest of my body, shaking like a leaf.

It all comes back to me now. It rushes at me like a tidal wave. I got drunk. Todd came over, drunk. I was supposed to be watching Sarah while my parents went out for the night. Todd and I went upstairs. I told Sarah to stay downstairs and not come up or bother us no matter what happened.

The smoke alarms should have gone off, I guess the batteries were dead. I should have smelled the smoke, I should have heard Sarah scream, I guess I was too busy loosing my virginity.

By the time we got downstairs, it was too late. I saw Sarah, lighter in hand, surrounded by a circle of fire, just before the smoke knocked my weak lungs out and I was on the ground. I don’t remember anything past that.

“She was only three years old!” I scream as my body goes into convulsions, lying on the hospital bed.

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