1 part of a small fictional story I wrote for fun

Everything is as if it is a black and white silent film playing in slowmotion in front of my eyes, and I can´t paused it or just turned off. People look sad, but when they are looking at me I can see the hate and the fear in they eyes. Grandpa says that I should just Ignore them, and I must know that it is definitely not my fault, that mom is not here anymore.

But he is wrong, it's my fault. I got mad at my mom. And then something happened that I could not manage. My body got really warm, and suddenly the living room was in flames. My mother was not as surprised as I were. She kept saying that I needed to relax, but it made everything worse. I remember her eyes and her last words. And the picture keeps running around in my head.
"I know there is overwhelming honey, but you have have to breathe slowly and relax. Look at me Leah, Leah honey look into my eyes at breath. " She said and then it happened. I yelled and screamed at her. And the fire was getting worse, and I could not control it. "Her eyes were sad but focused, as if she knew it was her last words she ever would say to me. While my body was getting warmer, she said: "You are special Leah, and no one shall take it from you. I love you so much! "Tears rolled down her cheeks and then it all explode. The fire embraced us, and I fainted. I don´t remember much after that.


I survived in the burning, but my mother did not. And if I could I want to take all I said and did back. It sould be be who did in the fire not my mother. People are giving me the look, because in this world everyone is afraid of witches, wizards, werewolves, vampires and magic all the supernatural stuff. We do not live in peace. We walk around with fear eveyday. We are affraid to be manipulated by the supernatural and lose our loved ones, being torture and getting killed in the worst way of the supernatural.

Because I survived in the fire, people are look at me as a witch who has no heart. However, I am at my mother's funeral, but in handcuffs and with a lot of armed guards around me. Grandpa told me that I need to escape as soon as I get the opportunity. I asked him how, but he said: "You will know when you have your opportunity." Which I did not get much help out of. A part of me says I need to escape, or else they kill me, but another part of me says maybe I´am a heartless witch who have to die, because I had no soul and I burned my mother to death, but then again, if I think that I deserve to die, it might mean that I have a heart and I feel. And I know one thing for sI do, and that is that I loved my mother very much and I will always do even though she is dead. So if I have a heart how does thatmake me a bad person. If I´m not a heartless witch, then what am I then.