The White Moonlight Set Fire on Purpose

1
The moment my husbands old flame found out I was pregnant, she set a fire, intending to burn me alive.
I didn't scream for help. Instead, I hoisted my mother-in-law, who had passed out from the smoke, onto my back and fought to survive.
In my last life, I had screamed and cried in the inferno. My husband, Ethan, had rushed in and saved his mother and me first. But his old flame, Phoebe, desperate to one-up me, had charged back into the flames and burned to death.
After she died, Ethan said she deserved it for starting the fire. He was endlessly gentle with me, soothing my frayed nerves. But the day our daughter was born, he took a framed photo of Phoebe from the mantelpiece and bludgeoned our newborn to death with it.
"It's all your fault!" he had roared, his face a mask of grief and madness. "You and this baby took her from me! Go to hell and atone for what you've done!"
In my despair, I took him with me. And when I opened my eyes again, I was back in the fire.
...
"Debra, hang in there! I'll get you out!"
The familiar voice sent a chill down my spine. I had just opened my eyes when the warped, burning husk of the bedroom door crashed down, missing my face by inches.
Terrified, I scrambled backward, pulling Ethans mother with me.
"Mom, don't open the window! It'll fuel the fire!"
I scanned the room, ripped a pillowcase from the bed, and soaked it with the last of a water bottle. I handed it to her, gesturing for her to cover her mouth and nose. Just then, the wail of sirens echoed from below. A flicker of hope crossed her face.
"Don't worry, Debra. Ethan's here. He'll save us."
She smiled, her eyes bright with relief. "We're going to be okay."
I looked down, unable to meet her gaze. How could I tell this kind woman that her own son would one day murder her granddaughter for another woman?
The heat in the room was becoming unbearable, the floor tiles searing hot beneath my feet. I had just helped his mother to a safer corner when Ethan's voice boomed from outside.
"Phoebe! Phoebe, are you in there?" he yelled, his voice tight with panic. "Don't be scared, I'm coming to save you!"
With a tremendous crash, the front door was forced open. I couldn't see anything through the wall of red and orange flames, but I could hear Phoebe's terrified sobs.
"Ethan! I'm on the balcony! Help me, I'm so scared..."
"Everyone with me!" Ethan commanded. "Forget searching anywhere else, she's on the balcony! Move!"
Hearing this, his mother clutched her chest, gasping for air. "That monster... my son, that monster... how could he..."
Before she could finish, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she collapsed.
Through the shimmering heat, I saw Ethan's silhouette carrying Phoebe in his arms, turning his back on the flames, on us. The fire licked at everything around me, and as a single tear escaped my eye, it evaporated instantly on my cheek.
This time, I swallowed the scream for help that rose in my throat.
This time, Ethan, my debt is paid.
As Ethan and his precious Phoebe disappeared, I secured the damp cloth over my own face and, after a few clumsy attempts, managed to haul his mother onto my back. The effort sent a sharp, stabbing pain through my abdomen. It took every ounce of my strength just to stand.
I was carrying Ethan's child in my womb and his mother on my back.
And as I stood there, trapped in the inferno, I could hear their voices drifting from outside.
"Phoebe, is anyone else in the house?"
"No one, Ethan. Debra... she said she was pregnant and couldn't be stressed. We argued, and... and she locked me in and set the fire, then she ran away..."
"That goddamn bitch," Ethan snarled. "When I find her, I'll make her pay for this!"
My legs buckled, and I nearly fell.
A moment later, another voice cut in. "Chief, I think I heard someone talking in the bedroom." It was Mike, one of his colleagues. "I have a bad feeling someone's still in there. What if Debra...?"
"Phoebe already told us what happened!" Ethan snapped. "Debra's the one who started this! You think she'd stick around to die in her own trap? Everyone out! Phoebe's weak, we need to get her to a hospital now!"
The pain in my belly was so intense I nearly bit through my own teeth, a primal urge to escape screaming through me. But just as I took a step, my mother-in-law, revived by the choking smoke, stirred on my back. Her hands gripped my shoulders, holding me back as she started to scream.
"Ethan, you little bastard! Your wife and your child are trapped in there! Who the hell are you taking to the hospital?"
I froze, listening intently. But the footsteps were already fading. Ethan was gone.
With a groan of tortured metal and wood, a flaming wardrobe crashed down, blocking our only way out.
My hands trembled as I poured the last few drops of water onto a small towel and passed it to his mother. Tears streamed down her wrinkled face. She opened her mouth to speak, but the sound of sirens returned, just as loud as before.
And then they faded into the distance. Ethan was gone, taking Phoebe with him.
The fire raged, growing hotter, wilder. A cold despair settled in my heart. We weren't going to make it out.
His mother coughed a few more times, then fell silent on my back. The flames were starting to catch the hem of my clothes.
Just as I was about to be consumed, a voice shouted from the doorway.
"Ma'am! The security guards said they never saw you leave! Are you still in there?"
Tears I didn't know I had left streamed down my face as I choked out a reply. A moment later, a figure burst through the smoke, a fire extinguisher in his hands. My strength finally gave out, and I collapsed.
When I opened my eyes again, I was on a stretcher outside our building. His mother was beside me. The man who had saved us was Mike, Ethans colleague. His face was black with soot, but when he saw my eyes open, he broke into a grin.
"Ma'am, I knew I heard you in there. That Phoebe girl kept insisting the house was empty..."
He didn't finish. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed. A wave of panic went through the crowd of onlookers as they scrambled to call for more ambulances.
None of us were seriously injured, but Ethan's mother had pre-existing conditions, and Mike had inhaled too much smoke. They were both still unconscious.
When Ethan got the news, he rushed to the hospital. The moment he saw me, he shoved past a nurse and slapped me hard across the face.
"You bitch! How could you be so cruel? Why did you try to kill Phoebe?" he roared. "You weren't even home! Why did you go back into the fire? You almost got Mike killed too, you know that!"
His voice was a torrent of fury. "I can't believe I married a monster like you. If any of them die, you're a murderer!"
I had just survived a fire, my mind still reeling from the terror, and he had sent me sprawling to the floor.
From behind him, Phoebe peeked out, her face a mask of false concern. "Debra, I know you hate me, but did you ever think about how many people you could have hurt?"
She swayed, leaning weakly against Ethan's shoulder, and began to cough violently. A fleck of blood appeared on her lips. Seeing it, Ethan spun around and, as I struggled to my feet, kicked me squarely in the stomach. I crumpled.
"You venomous bitch! Why didn't you burn to death in there!" he screamed, his eyes burning with a hatred I had never seen before. "I should have dragged Mike out of there and left you to die!"
He stood over me, his face twisted in contempt. Phoebe, nestled safely in his arms, shot me a look of pure triumph.
I had no strength left to argue.
A warm, sticky wetness was spreading beneath me. The pain was blinding, and tears streamed from my eyes. My smoke-ravaged throat could only manage a few hoarse syllables.
"Doctor... call a doctor..."
Ethan saw my agony and a cruel, twisted smile spread across his face. "A doctor?" he sneered. "Did you think about whether they'd get a doctor if you'd killed them?"
I stared up at him, a hollow ache spreading through my chest. Before Phoebe had reappeared in our lives, he had been so excited about this baby. He had already decorated the nursery. He had already chosen a name.
Julian.
He had said he would give the child his last name, and a middle name inspired by mine. A part of both of us, hed called it, the greatest gift.
But now, as he saw the blood pooling on the floor beneath me, he turned and covered Phoebe's eyes.
"Disgusting. Don't look, baby. It might scare you."
The next time I woke up, I was in a different room. The nurse saw I was awake and slammed a vial of medicine into the trash bin with a clatter.
"Well, look at you," she said, her voice dripping with disgust. "Tough one, aren't you? Ruined so many lives and all you lost was a baby. Lucky you."
My throat felt like it was on fire. I couldn't make a sound, forced to endure her scorn in silence. Seeing me helpless, she threw the door open and called out to the hallway.
"The suspect is awake! Get her out of here before she contaminates the whole hospital."
Her voice rose with righteous indignation. "She tried to kill the daughter of a fallen hero. How could someone so unlucky still be alive? Should have let her burn."
Two officers came in and hauled me to my feet without a word. Soon, I was face to face with Ethan.
We sat across a cold, metal table. His face was dark, and he spoke as if my sentence had already been passed.
"Debra. You are a venomous, cold-blooded snake. For attempted murder, you're going to prison." He paused, his jaw tight. "Given the... circumstances... I can request a suspended sentence. But you will do time for this."
He turned his head away, as if looking at me for a second longer would stain his own integrity.
I opened my mouth to defend myself, but all that came out was a series of wracking coughs.
Just then, Phoebe burst into the room, sobbing, and threw herself into Ethan's arms.
"Ethan, I had another nightmare," she wailed. "I dreamt I was burning to death... I'm so scared..."
The slight softening in Ethan's expression vanished, replaced by cold fury.
"Debra, I don't know what a sweet girl like Phoebe could have possibly done to you," he seethed. "Why do you hate her so much? Why do you have to keep hurting her?"
"Her father died on a rescue call! She's the daughter of a hero, and you... you...!" He couldn't finish, his hands balling into fists as he slammed them on the table.
Someone handed me a cup of warm water. I gulped it down, and finally found my voice, raw and raspy.
"The arsonist wasn't me. It was Phoebe."
My voice was quiet, but it filled the small room. "The person who should be in jail isn't me. It's her. And you, for dereliction of duty."
Ethan slammed the table again, leaping to his feet. He leaned over me, his eyes boring into mine. "Phoebe is pure and kind! How dare you slander her like this! She told me everything that happened. It was you! You started that fire over a stupid argument!"
As if on cue, Phoebe began to sob harder. "Ethan, she's trying to frame me again. I'm so scared. I just wanted to be like a little sister to you... is that so wrong? Debra, do you really have to kill me to be happy?"
She lunged towards me, grabbing my arm and shaking it violently. I recoiled in disgust, pulling my arm away. Phoebe immediately shrieked and threw herself backward.
"Ethan, save me! She pushed me!"
Ethan caught her, sweeping her into his arms. With his other hand, he grabbed me and threw me to the floor.
"Debra! You dare assault her right in front of me? Do you have any conscience at all?" he roared. "If it weren't for the law protecting pregnant women, I'd throw you in a cell right now and let you rot!"
I looked up at his enraged face. His features were so familiar, so much like the man who had once promised me the world.
But now, I held no illusions.
Last life, Phoebe killed herself, and he blamed me. This life, Phoebe was alive and well, and he still blamed me.
What was the point of a marriage like this?
I opened my mouth, my voice devoid of all emotion.
"Ethan, let's get a divorce. If you want to prosecute me, go ahead." I met his furious gaze. "The baby's gone now. Let's see if you can put me behind bars."
Ethan's brow furrowed, his voice sharp with confusion and accusation.
"What are you talking about? What do you mean, the baby's gone?"

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