I remember it now, the faded yellow walls cracked and moldy. The smell of your cigarettes lingered on everything you touched the beautiful wood floors, they lost their shine, becoming risen and split. The windows full of dust now, the memories race through my mind. Your hands cold and rough to the touch. And late at night the bed would creak. The house would come alive, It spoke to me; each word whispering things to me under my steps, the doors begged to be left closed, for when I'd open them they'd yell. I stop in front of the family portrait. Nothing was the same after she died. I open the gallon of gasoline and begin pouring it on the floors and all over the walls. glug, glug, glug. Looking up I see your room, pulling me back in and I'm back. Late at night you'd Summon me. Entering your room as demanded. The sheets reek of cigarettes and you, of whiskey. Those horrid hands would run over me at night, the pit of my stomach would churn followed by vomit. YOU BASTARD. I yell the room catching my words and throwing them back at me. Glug, glug, glug. Making my way through, the table sits in half on the old dusty floors. The yellow walls now dulled, with black mold. The scent of cigarettes has faded and is now replaced with a musky smell. Glug, glug, glug. Making my way out of the house slowly. Glug, glug, glug. Then walking outside finally, going in my pocket lighting one inhaling taking a long drag then finally releasing. This  old barren house, faded yellow paint, chipped split wooden floors broken, screaming out when stepped on. Picking up the gallon tossing it as hard as I can toward those windows, cracked and dull they scream when the gallon flies through it, I walk up to the stoop spitting on it like you once did. I turn to leave flicking the cigarette through the window. The old decrepit house began burning, all the photos, the furniture, and most importantly all the memories. The last few flames rise and the black curling smoke churns,  and in the embers that drift from the fire i find my sweet release.