Alternative End to The Yellow Wallpaper

T.Y.W.P. Continued…
I began to run exhausted of creeping over John who so selfishly fainted right across my pathway. If Jane was still here, she would assist him in coming to; how sorry. I however, am taking advantage of the new freedom discovered. I considered dragging him out of my way but, the weight of him alone is far too heavy for my level of strength. I re-considered the possibility of leaving, and although I am not fond of the creeping women out in the green, there is nothing here for me. The wallpaper is torn, John is unconscious, and I am surrounded by a house of unfamiliarity that emanates the feeling of loss. A wicked idea frolics through my mind suggesting means to an end, and providing the key to a new beginning.
When boiling water, you are removing the impurities within it. Unfortunately, I cannot flood the household with water keeping the temperature consistent (dark humor). I search throughout the kitchen and all of its cabinets and drawers in hopes of a sign; not that this is a place of hope at all. At once, I am fixated upon a yellow lighter (book of matches if I must stay realistic) found in a drawer that I once remember locking to protect the unborn innocence that still lingers. The shouting of the lighter pressures me to attain it. Once it is in my possession, a course of energy engulfs me. The amount of power I suddenly feel is quite foreign, nonetheless, I now am sure of what must be done.
I calmly make my way upstairs. I gather what is loose of all the wallpaper and the rope I had acquired. Carefully placed, I align the paper along the floor board, directly under the barred windows that I never could get through. John is of course still on the floor incapacitated, some doctor. With the yellow lighter in hand, a spark arises at one end of the rope, trailing to the paper. The once short flame meets with the paper and becomes strong. The flame screams over the wall, “freedom!” The smoke becomes clingy so, I decide it is time to descend the stairs.
Hesitantly, I open the front door and watch from the side walk. To my surprise, out here in the green, it feels open. I am not suffocated at all but, this house is mocking me, for now. Bars from the window began to fall one by one as the structure of it burns off into debris. I always knew I would get past that damned cage. All of a sudden the roof caves in and the flame enrages, covering the top of the house. As each square foot burns, I feel myself breaking free once and for all. It is not too much longer before several emergency vehicles abruptly pull up to the scene. While I admire the fire, they rush with water and so diligently attempt to put it out but, it is too late. The fire has consumed the majority of the property.
I am approached by a decorated blue as he asks, “Why would you start such a horrific blaze”? Perhaps it was my lack of empathy that appeared on my face as I gaze at the trickling embers that humored the officer’s assumption. I respond as I am being handcuffed in the backseat of the vehicle, “so my freedom could never be taken away from me again.” He scoffs, “Well, I don’t know about all of that but, I’ve never seen a fire more red.” As he drives off to my future I comment lastly, “I’m seeing more of a yellow.”