Bunfire Lit

Devoted to her religious belief, my mother burned all my plushies when I was 6, convinced that they housed an evil spirit. That day, I came home to a smell of smoke, a lost of comfort, and the unbearable weight of a lie upon my chest.

Was it worth it? Well, I’d like to believe there’s another version of myself in another timeline, hovering above my bed with bunny in hand, surrounded by the prayers of priests while I screamed and my body contorted into six different angles. If I didn’t, then my burned friends would be in vain.