Standing on the lawn was Stacy with a determined look on her face as she stared down at the dying flames of a blackened heap by her feet.
In one hand, she held lighter fluid, and in the other, a box of matches.
I marched over to inform her she couldn't just burn things on my carefully groomed grass.
However, my steps slowed when my eyes caught something peeking out from the blackened lump.
It was a familiar pink fabric that looked just like the suit my mother had worn during her court marriage.
My heart dropped to my stomach when I caught sight of the wheel of the luggage I had packed my things into yesterday.
"No," I whispered, watching as the dying embers consumed the last of my parents' things.
The photo album my mother had meticulously recorded all our memories in, my father's lucky cufflinks, and every other trinket that would be useless to everyone else but meant everything to me.
"W-what have you done?" I wailed as I crumbled to my knees, tears pouring down my cheeks.
Stacy smiled, her eyes filled with sadistic pleasure. "You acted so high and mighty yesterday, and that didn't sit right with me.”