foundation in ashes

The echoes seems to last longer from the ruins. The burnt treaks of wood cinched from the fire dies out, and the flame extinguishes from the snow falling from the heavens. It only took an hour for the fire to spread, and to consume the whole bungalow to ashes. With it are the memoirs of my fate, my despicable and loathesome life as a child. Maybe the house deserved to be ruined.

I retrace the whole house from the door, and felt the same feeling of going home, the fear of getting hit, that nuisance that you cannot intake. It was too much for an eight year old girl to be delivering firewood to neighbors for few coins for a loaf of bread, and that it doesn't even calm the hunger from yesterday's breakfast.

But the feeling does not end there. It makes me feel more nauseous of every memory of getting beaten uncle Bud every single time I don't bring money home for his vices. My dad left us after learning that my mom was doing a few physical favors for my uncle, and that he believed that the whole family was hiding the truth from him while he is working at the docks.

And from there my whole life's torture started. No schooling for me, a whole new lot of things to do for my brother to be able to continue where and what i did not have a chance to do. I have to send him to school no matter what.