It's always so strange, the things we find ourselves focusing on. In my case, it's the kitchen tiles.

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One, two, three…

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I take care to keep my toes inside the squares with each step I take toward the dining room.

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…Ten, eleven, twelve…

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I push the doors apart and try to keep the tray I'm carrying from slipping out of my shaky hands. The scent from the meal I've prepared alerts them of my presence and they turn their heads toward me.

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Fingers curl around silverware as I place the last dishes on the table. They stare at me expectantly. I force my face into a smile.

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"Well, go ahead. Dig in!"

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The words have barely left my mouth before they begin stuffing food into theirs.

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My sister cries out, dropping her fork to the ground. She looks to me in horror as she coughs a spray of red on to her plate. Her fingers find one of the many pieces of glass in her tongue and she struggles to pry it free, but it's useless. She's already swallowed enough to shred her esophagus to ribbons.

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Father is next. He foams at the mouth, gripping his throat and writhing wildly. Arsenic will do that. His skull smashes into the table and he clutches the tablecloth, pulling everything to the floor with him. I look down, watching the desperation in his eyes begin to fade.

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My mother would have been screaming long ago if her throat hadn't swelled shut, courtesy of the peanuts she's so deathly allergic to. Her sickly wheezing goes on for a long while. Her eyes plead with me but I remain in my seat until she collapses.

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Finally, all is quiet.

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The cleanup is daunting. There's a lot of blood, a lot of porcelain, a lot of (in)edible debris to get through. It's going to take me a while. But maybe, just maybe this will all be worth it. Maybe this time it will be enough.

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I find myself standing in the kitchen, shaking from head to toe. This is where the fire started, here with me. I've counted the tiles to the back door so many, many times.

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One, two, three, four, five, six…

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Six steps. That's all it took to escape the flames and leave them all behind. Six more steps, and I could have warned them, I could have saved them. Just six more steps…

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When I close my eyes I can see what this place truly is. If my eyes are closed, I can see the charred remains. I can hear the screams. I can feel the flames. And I know that they burned.

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But they came back- as if nothing had ever happened, as if their bodies hadn't been turned to ash. So for a long while, I tried to ignore that I was living with the dead.

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Though I knew they didn't belong here. I knew they had to pass.

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So I hope this time, it will be enough.