Brick streaked across the sky, looking for the residential areas of Roseford. Dexter told him Blossom was always the first one home after school, so she had to be at home and Dexter had given him their address at 3128 Roseate Drive.
Then Brick spotted an area that was mainly made of residential houses. He lowered in the crossroads and immediately knew where Blossom lived.
Aside from the sign pointing out Roseate Drive, a house was up in flames. People were screaming and trying to get in, but couldn't get past the door. He flew towards it, and he saw by the sign that was nearly engulfed in flames that this was 3128 Roseate Drive.
He decided on the windows; they'd be easy to go through and all he'd have to do is break it. But when he punched through the glass of one, a sudden heat wave sent him spiraling back. He couldn't go through there, he knew. So he dropped back down in front of the house.
"Move," he told the people brusquely.
"Kid, don't go in there!" a man shouted, grabbing his arm before he could stride all the way to the front door. But Brick wrenched his arm out and gave the man a hard push on the chest.
"I know what I'm doing." Then he walked up to the door and grabbed the doorknob, pulling the door off its hinges and throwing it aside. Behind him, he heard the gasps of the crowd.
A bookcase was in the way, and he surmised Blossom put it there to keep anybody who was brave enough to break open the door from getting through. Looks like she set the fire to kill herself, he thought as he kicked through the bookcase. That explains why she didn't use her ice breath.
Fire blazed all around him, and the heat was unbearable. All around him, the sofa, the armchairs, the drapes, everything was aflame. Smoke billowed up all around him and the windows were closed. She knew if she didn't die of the fire, she'd die of the smoke.
The smell was acrid, and tears burned in his eyes as a hacking cough began in his throat. "Blossom!" he called. "Blossom!" There was no answer. His eyes rested on the stairs. He hurried towards it, coughing as he went. "Blossom!"
He took only one step on the stairs when a burning beam fell in front of him, just barely missing by inches. "Damn!" He punched straight through it and continued to ascend the steps. "Blossom! Blossom, come on! Talk to me! Blossom!"
At the top of the steps, he emerged into the middle of a searing hallway, filled by only by three doors. He gazed at all three, and made a split decision—the center. He kicked it open, and whatever was left of the pink wallpaper indicated it as the right room. "Blossom!"
In the corner, another bookcase was overturned, and he knew that was where Blossom was. The bookcase must've been wide because all he saw was the top of her bow. "Blossom!" He hurried towards the bookcase and wedged his fingers under it. Then he lifted it up and tossed it aside. "Blossom!"
She sat with her back pressed against the wall, her knees tucked up to her chest and her arms folded over her legs. In the margin between her skirt and her thigh-high socks showed a number of old scars. She raised her head and her eyes looked alarmingly weak.
She gave a few coughs. "Brick?" she said feebly, but the surprise was there. He would've wanted to start yelling at her about those scars and what she tried to do but he had no time.
"Hold on." He knelt down and picked her up. Then he started kicking the wall. Cracks appeared on the surface quickly and finally, the wall gave way. The people below them pointed towards them and even some firefighters stood there. A fire engine was parked outside.
Blossom kept on coughing and Brick quickly flewout, heading towards the hospital.
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I know the fire is a bit far-fetched for a suicide attempt, but I honestly couldn't think of anything else that wouldn't kill her quick. And it was a little fun imagining the people of Roseford being shocked that a preteen could actually tear away a door and kick a bookcase in. (^v^)
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Depression
Fanfiction{WARNING} This fanfiction, although ends on a good note, includes details of self-harm and suicidal tendencies, as well as attempted suicide. If you feel like you can handle it, you're amazing, because my own relatives think there's something wrong...
