Watch It Burn

I gazed back reluctantly through gnarled strands of hair that had once been a silky smooth mane, but I did not dwell on that. More important things filled my mind, like how the columns were collapsing beside helpless faces. No, I remind myself, not helpless, not innocent. After ruining so many lives, this was their punishment. I wanted this, to see their great buildings burn and tumble to the ground.

My father used to watch the news, and whenever a city or building or even a small home caught fire or was burned, he would roll his eyes and glare. Then, he liked to pour a pot of coffee and grumble about waste and the economy and how somebody was going to have to clean the mess up. As I walked slowly and delicately through debris covered streets, I let myself smile and get lost in the pure exhilaration. They deserved it.

I have always enjoyed watching destruction and flames echoing through lifeless streets. While people are unharmed and carried to safety, I lean against an expensive boutique, the kind I have never been allowed in. They'll never catch me, and, honestly, I don't care if they do. Somebody had to be one to dismantle their wretchedness; I guess it had to be me.