Today I am living in a hotel. My home is destroyed. So many questions still linger.
I’ve been told by one of my neighbors that there is a faction at Barton Terrace that will “make it impossible” for me to ever live there again. Barton Terrace is my home. I’m disappointed in most of my neighbors.
After being treated at Brackenridge and then released, I returned to the property. It had not been a dream it seemed. Left of my condo was a shell. The rest of the structure was intact.
I never would have expected the response I got from the people with whom I have lived for eight years.
My upstairs neighbor, Jack, smiled and remarked “so it finally happened. ”
My next door neighbor, Barak, demanded that he be put in a hotel because his place smelled bad. Mine was demolished.
The girl that lives with Barak informed me that something like this would never happen to her. I sincerely hope that it never does.
**** walked directly up to me and proclaimed “you killed your birds! ”
Shock had set in much earlier. Their comments added a relatively small amount of pain to the disaster that had just consumed my entire life.
I was confused.
Had I not just survived a fire that had left only a foot and a half of clear air near the floor of my condo? Was anyone going to ask me if I was ok? Did anyone care?
I was just seeing the ruins of my home and these people chose to attack me. Shame on you Jack, shame on you Barak, shame on you Barak’s girl, shame on you ****. I don’t know how any of you live with yourselves.
How can such hateful people exist? How can someone’s heart be so dead?
But it gets worse…
As I was being bombarded by my destroyed home and my heartless scum neighbors, the house guest from the night before returned.
She confessed. She confessed to my husband and several others that she had set the fire, that she had let the cat out when she left, that she had left us there to die in our sleep while our home burned.
We had opened our home to this woman and she had burned it down? In an attempt to kill us?
Investigators later informed us that she had even disabled the smoke detector. No wonder I had never heard it. I had tested it two weeks prior.
Her intention had been that my husband and I burn. In our sleep.
We survived the fire, barely, and we’re still alive. For that I am so grateful. But life is unsure. I have a roof over my head as a write this, but I don’t know what roof will be over my head tomorrow night or the night after that.
I can’t go back to my home, not because it smells bad but because it is gutted.
I have learned to love small things even more than before. I’ve learned to greatly appreciate any object that is not on fire. I very much appreciate the neighbors who are glad that we lived: Wendy, David, Frank, Cullen. Wendy gave me clothes. David is taking care of our cat. Thank you, kind neighbors.