She stood there, watching what was left of the house, burning. There were no tears. No sorrow. All she felt was calmness. It was finally over. If those walls which have been reduced to burning embers could talk, the unspeakable horrors of what transpired in that house would make anyone’s skin crawl and fill even the hardhearted with utter revulsion. She had lived those horrors firsthand. Her scars were not visible but they were there.
How the fire started, she had no idea but it was her liberator. She was free. Yes, those flames had delivered her from hell.
This was written for the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields For more details, visit Here. To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.