Dangerously self-contained

You were fifty-seven, divorced and remarried. Your firstborn was found dead; you hadn’t spoken to your other son for years. When you were diagnosed there was no one to take care of you except for your new husband’s old crow of a sister. But you were proud, rough. Tired of hearing her muttering and cursing her tough luck when she thought you were too sick to realize… So you did the only logical thing. You destroyed a home that was never truly yours and yourself with it. Did fire hurt?

Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental