Right Place, Right Time - Rhea Ripley

Chapter 9 - Everything is gone.

January 2020...

I woke up to a pounding in my head, like someone was trying to force their way into my skull. The room was spinning, and it took me a moment to remember where I was: my shitty apartment. The pounding persisted, growing louder and more insistent with each passing second. Was it coming from the walls? The windows? No, it was coming from the smoke alarm, its high-pitched shriek filling the room like the shrill wail of a thousand banshees.

I shot up, smelling smoke, and immediately began to panic. My vision swam as I searched for the source of the fire, my heart racing in my chest. The smoke alarm continued its deafening wail, making it nearly impossible to think. I heard the door pounding, it was my neighbours, they were shouting,

"GET OUT!" They were screaming at me. My heart thudding in my chest, I looked around, running out. But there was nothing, nothing but the smoke and the sharp sound of the smoke alarm's relentless shriek. In desperation, It was then that I looked up, revealing the fire, it was a few floors above me.

"HOLY SHIT! I NEED TO GET MY STUFF!" I panicked, but was pulled back outside,

"You can't! Just go!"

I ran downstairs and away from the building, the smoke alarm still shrieking behind me. My heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest, and I couldn't help but collapse into a heap on the sidewalk, tears streaming down my face. I didn't know what to do, where to go. I was shaking uncontrollably and couldn't stop coughing from the smoke I'd inhaled. People were gathered around me, asking if I was okay, if I needed help. But all I could do was stare at the burning building in the distance, feeling helpless and lost. I luckily had my phone in my pocket, that was always the first thing I'd grab in emergencies, in case I needed to call someone.

"The fire department are already coming..." My neighbour, a 60 year old woman rubbed my shoulder, while we both had tears in our eyes. I didn't look at her, I couldn't look at anyone. I just stared at the burning building, my heart pounding in my chest, feeling helpless and empty. The smoke alarm's shriek was still haunting my ears, and I couldn't get the smell of smoke out of my lungs. It felt like I was drowning, like I was going to suffocate any second.

I watched as my home burned, the fire spread into my living room, all the memories in there. It wasn't the best place but fuck, it was my home, my safe place. The smoke alarm continued its relentless wail, the sound seeming to pierce right through me, like a physical thing. I could feel it vibrating in my bones, like it was inside my head, trapped. It was a cruel joke, a twisted reminder of what I had lost.

I had no money, no clothes, only my pyjamas and phone, not even shoes, it was cold outside. I could see the firemen rushing in, trying to contain the flames, but it was already too late. My heart ached as I watched my home be consumed by the fire, the smoke alarm still shrieking in the background, its piercing wail only serving to make the scene more surreal, more unreal.

The part that broke my heart was the screams of a woman shouting, "PLEASE SAVE MY DOG," and out walked a fireman with a dog, the dog was normally white but was now fully black from all the soot, but luckily still breathing.

My neighbours wrapped me and others in a blanket. They had told me that I would be taken care of, that there were shelters for people in my situation. I didn't want to go to a shelter, I wanted to go home, back to my apartment. But it was gone, burnt to the ground.

As I sat there, shivering in my pyjamas, I couldn't help but feel empty. Like a part of me had died with my home. The smoke alarm's shriek had finally stopped, but the silence that followed was even more deafening. It was as if the world around me had gone quiet, as if everything had come to a standstill.