In one of our many homes, there was a kind of long built-in storage area upstairs. It could almost have been a closet, but it was angled from the roof and wasn’t really a place to hang clothing. Because of the angle, it wasn’t even a place an adult could stand up in. It wasn’t used for anything, and once I made it into my own little fort. I brought pillows and toys in there, and because there were no lights, I brought candles.
I left the candles burning one day. My brother smelled the smoke and easily searched out the source. He was able to extinguish the small fire before it did any real damage and then looked for me. When he found me, he screamed at me before punching me and knocking me to the floor. I was seven. He was twelve. He never hit me before and never hit me again. And since that day, I’ve never left a candle unattended.