"I hate you."
I have said those words three different times to three different people. Isaac, Dean, and Oliver. The only three people I have every truly hated. The three men who killed my father.
Isaac had a arsonist's soul; he loved to burn things. I don't know where he picked the habit up, but in the time I knew him, he was a thief, a murderer, and a thug for hire. All of those things, he did with an unnecessarily incendiary flare. It was his idea to light my house aflame that night.
The night they took my father away.
WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!
I shouted at myself, banging on the walls of my own mind. I was conscious enough at this point to feel angry and helpless. I raged against my own thoughts, my own mind turned against me. I didn't care about Isaac and Dean and Oliver, I didn't care about... about the lake.