Engulfed

Chapter 4

Brendon and I went room by room, looking for a way out. Most rooms were burnt beyond using. We still had hope that there might be a window or door that was available to use.

It would be a lot easier to split up, but there was no leaving Brendon in the kind of state that he's in now. I wish he'd never gotten drunk. I wish he'd never drank tonight, but then again, I can't really blame him.

We found a half-decent room to stay in. It was the least flame occupied of the ones we've seen. I sat Brendon down on a lounge chair and went searching.

There was a closet of hangers, not helpful (unless Brendon and I were going to play dress-up). I found a few albums and platinum records. This must've be a recording room. Shame, you couldn't even recognize it.

I tried to remember what this place used to look like, before it was on fire. It used to be such a nice, big, beautiful place. Now it's my worst nightmare.

I looked down to find my arm leaning into a flame. I saw it before I felt any kind of pain. Funny, how slow it crept up on you. Yelping, I patted it and shook my arm out.

It wasn't the only place that was burned. My hands had blistered up from feeling doors, knobs, walls, and floors. My feet ached and probably were as blistery as my hands. I'm sure I looked much more of a mess than I felt. Adrenaline still pumped in my body. There had to be a way out.

And there was.

If I would've looked just above me, I would've seen a burning curtain and shades. A window!

I squeezed my eyes shut and held onto it. Shouting, I teared it down. Moonlight showered into the room through the glass of the window. The sight of it brought me to tears.

"Hang on Brendon. We're going home," I told him.

My skin began to peel and bleed around my hands and arms, but that didn't stop me. I grabbed the legs of a wooden chair and smashed the glass to pieces. The chair fell down with the glass. I hoped it was enough of a distraction to attract help.

Cool air flew into the room, stinging every inch of my body. Brendon cried out. He felt it too.

Flames were crawling up the chair to him, a quick one even caught the tips of his fingers. I grabbed him and ran over to the window.

"Patrick," he breathed out, "Are we going to jump that?"

I nodded, "We have to."

It was a pretty far jump; a jump that might cost us a broken bone or two, but I'd choose that over burning to death. If I've ever been afraid of heights, the feeling was gone now. This was our escape.

"Go on, I'll jump after you," Brendon said. The fire seemed to be sobering him up. Now, he at least knew what was going on.

"No way man," I shook my head, "I came in here to save you and I'm not going to leave this place until I see you safely on the grass."

Through tears, he smiled and hugged me tightly, "Thank God for you, Patrick Stump."

I smiled, even have a little chuckle from the back of my throat, "Let's go home."

~ Becca