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Blazes of illuminating fire scattered along the floorboards of my house. What sounded like a riot, like a protest, rang through my ears and forced me to call the police.

As I ran downstairs, red flames greeted my eyes at the bottom of the stairs alongside the doorway, where I was completely horrified. I had to jump, to risk my life, as I waited for the police to arrive.

The national anthem played. The national anthem my late husband always reminded me of was playing in the background of my crisis. Sirens and screams and cries and fears. I was coughing uncontrollably and almost collapsed beneath the surface of the toxic gas.

Firemen bolted through the front door and quickly made their way in, exerting water onto the scene and quickly picking me up from the filthy ground. My eyes were red as ever and I could barely breathe when I got out of the house, neighbours standing around me & surrounding the house with terror and anxiety.

No longer fully conscious, I was put to rest atop a soft blanket in the back of an ambulance. Doctors and nurses examined my body as I was taken to the hospital, where everything seemed like a blur. They treated me at the hospital, gave me medicine and filled me with clean drugs.

Detectives then came in shortly after my slow recovery, asking me if I knew anything about this situation, if I knew anybody or anything that would do something like this. Since my husband was buried underground, I couldn't name him, so I mentioned the group rumoured to take me down because of their "untrue" beliefs.

The detectives hesitated before asking me the group's name, unsure of what the reason behind this group may be. I told them I didn't know but it consisted of five or six people who were fairly close to my husband and his family.

The detectives soon nodded at me and left the building, leaving me in an uncomfortable position where whatever may happen in the near-future, I wouldn't be able to scheme my way out.

For this reason, only, I might be at the final stages of my end. No longer the beginning of the end and no longer mid-way through it, I am at the end of the end. The horrifying, disastrous end of the end.