The conflict of choices

The house burns fiercely, ready to swamp anyone who dares to step close. Look at the damage it has done already as the ashes rain upon you. The image of your marriage crumbling down like a set of dominos plays brightly in front of you. Brighter than the flames engulfing this house. 

After hours of dedicated hard work from the fire department, the fire finally dies out. It has become dark by now. With a flashlight in your hand you step out from behind the tree you were using as a camouflage. You stride towards the scene with that awkward gritty walk of yours. 

“Arson investigator,” you flash your badge to the officer trying to block you from entering the scene. As he steps away, you continue further inside. Luckily there are no victims this time. 

The doubt of your sister being the mastermind behind this arson peeps out like a meerkat from beneath the ground. But the symbol on the living room wall kowtows your suspicion. The image of a swastika with a skull being hung from the lower left end drawn out of charcoal is her trademark symbol. There are multiple sources of start points with shreds of evidence of gasoline being the propellant. This house had been set ablaze by your sister and you have got enough evidences to prove it but not enough guts to confront her. 

You know what she does but she doesn’t know that you know what she does. Yet you have no idea about the reason behind this rage of hers. Sending silent prayers, you always wish she better has some good reason behind this rage. Not to defend her innocence (that is if she still has something left in her), but to know the reason behind the act that drives her crazy. 

When all this started eight months back, the world around you collapsed, leaving you to wander around in the crumbs. When you saw her setting fire to an abandoned house as a good civilian and owing to the oath you took for your profession, you were supposed to turn her in but eventually succumbed to the brotherly love for your little sister. 

How can you file a charge sheet against her, when all you remember of her is the cute smile on her freckled face and her utter innocence. All those lovable family moments have stopped you from performing your duty. That time you stood between her and your abusive father to protect her. That time you held her in your embrace when your mother passed away. That time you stood beside her defending her from the street bullies. That time you consoled her when her supposed boyfriend for prom absconded at the last minute. Teaching her to play baseball and ride the bike. Only these memories float through your mind. The image of her setting fire to a house refuses to register in your mind. 

The irrational thought that you were saving her even when your lucid mind screamed 'Just say it to the world' has backfired now. Refusing to hand her over to the law that day has resulted in four more houses being burnt down (including the one today), loss of seven lives, and destruction of millions of dollars' worth property. All these results are haunting you now and makes you question yourself, ‘Whether you have saved her or have pushed her furthermore into the pit.’

Now, look around the damage that has been caused for which you are responsible too. You had a chance to prevent this from happening, yet you didn’t. Still, you refuse to believe your little sister did all this. Why wouldn’t you, for she was a calm and compassionate little being during her childhood despite her rough childhood. When puberty hit and pushed her into teenage days, things started going downhill. She would shut herself in her room, making minimal contact with the world around. She started surrounding herself with mysteries that only she has the key to free herself from. You are unable to confront her to her face. You still believe in a far corner that she will change, that she will stop pouring out her rage in the fire. Only time knows the answer but for now, she hasn't. 

As you enter your house after finishing your investigation, it appears eerily quiet and dark. Your wife won't be at the door today to welcome you as opposed to what she is used to. And you know the reason behind it. You. Of course, also the quarrel you initiated with her last night. As you switch on the light a bright yellow sticky note on the TV screen catches your attention. This looks strange. Afraid something might have had happened, you approach it cautiously. Taking it in your hand you see your wife's handwriting on it. 

'I'm off to my mom's. Will be back in a couple of days." Though you are not happy about it, a sigh of relief escapes from you knowing she will not be subjected to your cowardly fitting rage for atleast a couple days. 

There is no reason for you to grieve about her leaving. The only emotion you got to have is guilt. Your inability to express the truth to the world has almost cost you your marriage. Everything comes with a price, darling.

As you enter the bedroom, the frame on the wall with the words of Edmund Spenser sways elegantly from the air gushing in through the open window. ‘My love is Like to Ice, and I to Fire’. You gifted this to your wife a year back and today it mocks you.  

These words perfectly suit you both. You burn brightly like the fire consuming and destroying yourself and the things around you. Contrary to you, she stands like pure crystal clear ice, reflecting everything cast towards her no matter what and melts completely at the wrath of fire. 

This little dirty secret of yours kills you from inside. Moreover, the silence you are being subjected to as a result of this truth torments your soul. You have vowed to be faithful with your better half. Already cheating on your profession, it is no right to punish your wife for your acts. 

The pillow cover with the words ‘Keep smiling Prometheus’ brings on the faintest smile possible on your face. Battling the greedy demons in your head you decide to confess everything to your wife. The only way possible to set everything back on track. The outcome is already overpriced and you know it for sure. Picking up the phone your fingers tremble upon touching the call option. 

After three rings, which looked like the longest wait in your life, the sweetest voice you have ever known says “Hello.”

“I got to tell you something important. Will meet you first thing in the morning.” You blurt out and disconnect the call without allowing her to reply. You have left a soul lingering with questions and confusion in the middle of the night. Switching off the phone you lay on your bed with eyes closed. Tomorrow is unprecedented but for now you have let go of the weight that has been holding you down. The two things you were yearning for months finally finds its way to you. Peace and sleep.