"Fire-trucks flew down the street nearly hitting a dog and 3 people. Down a block a small house was on fire. A little boy was carried out in the arms a brave civilian. His legs were long and his face was blackened. The dark-brown hair upon his head was scorched in various places. He coughed and hacked like an old man that smoked his whole life.

A fireman walked over to the boy and retrieved him. I saw it. Just then, another fireman kicked the civilian down and the one with the boy walked out to the crowd like a brave hero. The other fireman continued to assault the man. Some brave fireman, hmph.

They told me to never tell anyone. Never have I told anyone, but you...you're an exception. I see now that the truth must be exposed! I cannot live with this lie. This caustic lie eats away at me. I cannot run anymore. That is why you must record this and tell the world our secret!"

12 years earlier

A young scraggily boy sat in his house watching the day's events. Upon closer inspection you could his he was heaving his chest heavily and his face was streaked with tears. His life was bad enough. It wasn't his intention to set someone's house on fire. Inside he was almost happy. It wasn't fair that those people got to live in a clean house with running water and heat in the winter. It wasn't fair that those people got to be happy and live with each other like every family should. It wasn't fair that they didn't have to live in a dumpster like he did. It wasn't fair that the other little boy's mother wasn't a drug addict like his. Still, weight of what he did rested upon his shoulders.

Today was a lucky day. He got to eat some food from a store because he found 75 cents earlier. Then he found a dry book of matches that was half used. He went to gather some dry sticks and new just where to get it. He walked over to a light blue house. Inside was a young woman around the age of 26 years old. She had a young son 7, the same age as the scraggily boy. There was also a man in there 29 years of age. They were a happy family but the young boy didn't want to think about his losses that much today. He could think about that stuff on a bad day.

He reached the back of the house and found the pile of sticks. The same thought kept reoccurring in his mind though. It is not fair... Again he tried to rid his mind of this villainous thought, but it would not go away. Compulsively he grabbed a stick and lit it on fire. He smiled. He looked up to see the boy his age in the window. The homeless boy's eyes widened in shock, but the young boy in the window smile comfortingly as he waved his hand questing the boy with the burning stick to come inside. He nodded and blew out the fire, yet there were still embers that continued to burn the stick slowly. He grabbed a bundle of sticks and rushed to the door.

Inside was like a palace to him. He set his sticks down on the couch. The other boy brought him to the bathroom and showed in his mom's collection on perfumes. Together the brought them out to the living room and sampled them. Some were fruity and others were strong and musky. In all their fun they accidentally spilled a few. The scraggily boy then wanted to show the boy who lived there something special. He grabbed the sticks off the couch and put them down on the floor except for one stick, which he lit on fire. Both boys giggled and danced around in a circle with the fiery stick.

Suddenly the boy dropped the stick after he half tripped over a bottle of perfume. Everything exploded into one huge flame. His primal instincts took over. The homeless boy ran out of the house with nothing but the book of matches in his house.

"The boy as old as I lit the house on fire!" He sobbed like he did the day he lit the house on fire.

"But, sir, There was no other boy reported at the scene of the crime."