Gasping, I ripped off my eye cover, my pulse pounding in my ears like a drumbeat of panic. Thick, black smoke seeped under the bedroom door, curling into the room like a living, malevolent force.
My heart lurched, but a single thought sliced through the haze of fear: I had to get to her—the instinct was so immediate, so overpowering, that for one disoriented moment, I forgot shewasn’t here.Thank God Alana was safe at Jackson’s parents' house.
Relief was fleeting, chased away by the terrifying reality around me. I had come back here only to grab some essentials for her, things to make her feel at home. The plan was to leave tomorrow. Now, it feels like tomorrow might never come.
Before I went to bed I had packed Alana stuff. Everything I’d packed felt so small now—a stuffed bear missing one button eye, a worn blanket she couldn’t sleep without, the photo album with crayon scribbles on the edges.
But those things weren’t just objects. They were pieces of Alana’s world, fragments of comfort in the chaos we were trying to escape.
Fumbling for my robe, I threw it around my shoulders, my hands trembling as I reached for my phone on the nightstand. The screen illuminated my shaking fingers as I dialed 911, pressing the call to the speaker.
My throat burned with each shallow breath, and tears streamed down my face, partly from the sting of the smoke and partly from the helplessness clawing at me.
The dispatcher’s voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. “Hidden Pines 9-1-1, what is your emergency?”
“There’s a fire in my house,” I rasped, struggling to steady my voice. I gave her my address, coughing violently as I added, “I’m on the second floor... I think I can jump out the window if I have to.”
“Stay calm. Can you evacuate safely, or do you need assistance?”
“A ladder would be nice,” I joked weakly, panic thinning my voice as I reached for the window.
It didn’t budge.
A jolt of terror gripped me. I checked the locks—open. Was the frame warped? Painted shut? Desperation surged as I shovedagainst it, sweat slicking my palms. The edges of the frame bit into my skin as I pushed with everything I had.
My chest heaved with every failed attempt, and a raw sob escaped my throat. The glass was cool, mocking me with its stillness as the fire’s glow flickered faintly against it.
“It’s not opening!” I shouted, voice cracking.
“Help is on the way,” the dispatcher reassured me. “Stay low and avoid the smoke. Try to remain calm until the fire department arrives.”
The words were meant to comfort, but they only sharpened my fear. I dialed Jackson, my fingers fumbling over the screen. He picked up on the second ring, his voice sharp with concern.
“Help—fire—help!” was all I could manage before another coughing fit took over.
“Savannah? Where are you?” His voice was taut, urgent, but I couldn’t answer. The phone slipped from my hands, clattering to the floor.
The smoke thickened, its dark tendrils clawing at my lungs like a physical weight.I have to get out. I can’t wait for help.Crawling on my hands and knees, I dragged my suitcase behind me as I made my way to the door.
Every inch forward felt like I was dragging the weight of my entire life behind me.One step closer. Just one more.My lungs screamed with every breath, but I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t let this be where it ended.
The floor felt warm, and the heat pressed against my skin like a living thing. I reached the door and hesitated, my hand hovering over the knob. If I opened it, would the fire burst in and consume me? Swallowing hard, I pressed my palm against the cool metal. It was safe—for now.
Cracking the door open, I was met with a fresh surge of smoke, the bitter heat scalding my face and throat. I dropped to the ground again, crawling beneath the thickest layers of haze,my suitcase an awkward weight behind me. Every inch forward felt like a battle, the air growing heavier and hotter with each passing second.
When I reached the top of the stairs, dizziness overtook me. My vision swam, black spots dancing at the edges. The distant wail of sirens broke through the oppressive roar of the fire, but it felt too far away—too late.
Two steps down, and my body gave out. I collapsed on the landing, my cheek pressing against the hardwood. The heat radiating through the floorboards was unbearable, and the acrid tang of burning plastic stung my nostrils. Somewhere nearby, a loud crack echoed, followed by the splintering sound of wood giving way.
Flames roared closer, and I turned my head weakly to see the railing splinter and fall, sparks raining down like fireflies from hell. A scream tore from my throat, raw and desperate, but it was swallowed almost instantly by the relentless roar of the fire.
I thought of Alana. Her laugh. Her tiny arms wrapped around my neck as she whispered “I love you, Mama.” I couldn’t leave her. Not like this. Not ever.
I tried to move, to crawl, to fight, but my limbs felt impossibly heavy, as if the fire itself pinned me down. My vision blurred, the searing heat pressing down on me. The sounds of the fire seemed to fade, replaced by a strange, eerie calm. For a moment, I felt weightless, as if I were suspended in nothingness.
Then I heard it—boots pounding against the floor. A deep, commanding voice cutting through the chaos. My heart surged. Someone was here.
Somewhere in the darkness, I felt the rough fabric of a firefighter’s jacket against my cheek, the faint scent of smoke and sweat mingling with clean, cold air. My mouth opened to cry out, but only a faint rasp escaped. Darkness crept in again, pulling me under just as strong arms lifted me from the inferno.
