Disclaimer: The Pretender is not mine.
He wants to burn it to the ground.
It seems a natural enough of a thing to want. He would challenge any of the present or former inmates of the place (voluntary or otherwise) to say that they have not had a similar train of thought at one point or another. They would be liars. They have all thought it at least once. He knows that they have. It is the type of place that engenders such ideas in everyone that has any extended contact.
The difference between him and the others is that they are too afraid or to bound by convention to admit what it is that they really want. He is neither of those things. He will admit it to himself. He will say it out loud. He will not leave it to be just a passing thought or some sort of childish, recurring fantasy. He will actually carry it out. He is decisive and clear. He is willing to take action. He will take action and not concern himself with what that action entails. Ultimately, that is why the others will always be beneath him. They lack something that he has.
He wants to burn it to the ground while he warms his hands next to the flames.
This desire is purely a personal pleasure. He wants to know that he can stand by and watch what he has wrought uninterrupted. He wants to glory in the knowledge that he will not be touched by anyone or anything while he does so - that there will be no looking over his shoulder or reporting in to be done. There will be no one creeping in the background thinking that they are giving him orders. There will be no one trying to rein him in or push him in other directions. It will be a very good day, and he will want to linger over it and extract all the enjoyment possible out of the scene. He will want to be close. He will want to feel the reality of the flames against the palms of his hands.
Besides, they always kept that building so blasted cold inside on all of the lower levels. He hated that the whole time that he was growing up in there and hadn't gained any appreciation for it as an adult. It will be strangely satisfying to use it as a campfire.
He wants to burn it to the ground while he warms his hands next to the flames and watches the ashes as they are carried off by the breeze.
He can see it all in his head. It will be night because the flames will show up best against a backdrop of darkness. The wind will be blowing just enough to keep the fire stirred and take the bits and pieces of the incinerated contents along with it for a ride. It will happen slowly at first - building speed as more is pulled away exposing ever larger swaths of the underneath. The fire will grow larger and larger as it consumes more and more until it burns itself out of fuel with the completion of its destruction. It is going to be the most beautiful thing that he has ever seen. He can almost taste the smoke on his tongue already.
The scattering of the ashes seems appropriate - even poetic. The place has spread its contagion so far and wide during its years of operation. It only seems right for the proof of its destruction to be carried off to the far reaches as well.
He wants to burn it to the ground while he warms his hands next to the flames and watches the ashes as they are carried off by the breeze until nothing remains.
He can't wipe every trace of all the places they have had their fingers pulling strings and wiping slates. He wouldn't bother if he could. He isn't some delusional righter of other people's wrongs. He has no interest in fixing things. Fixing has no appeal for him. He prefers destruction - craves it even.
He is going to destroy the Centre's future. He is going to destroy the Centre's legacy. He is going to wipe it out of existence so thoroughly that no one will ever think to question what it used to be. It will take time, but he does not mind that. He is undertaking a delicate operation, and he will carry out each step of each stage with the upmost of care. Destruction may be messy, but there is no room for shoddy workmanship.
Each detail has a plan. The bonfire to be is no exception. The building is a symbol not a warning. It will be the last thing to go. There is no purpose in making it the first.
He wants to burn it to the ground while he warms his hands next to the flames and watches the ashes as they are carried off by the breeze until nothing remains except for him.
He will be the last one standing. He will be the only one left. He, the overlooked and dismissed as inferior one, will be triumphant over them all. That is why the building will wait. The destruction of the people comes first. He will dismantle each and every individual ever tied to his incarceration. They will suffer. They will die. He will remain.
He does not care if they ever feel regret. He does not care if they ever understand why what is happening to them is happening. He isn't seeking some righteous retribution. It isn't about them. It has never been about them. It has always been about him. He is the only one who has ever actually mattered, and he wants them to be gone simply to showcase that he can make it so.
That is what he will have. That is what is coming, and it is coming more quickly each and every day. He has his matches ready. He'll start striking them soon.