When Mabel returns to her childhood home, she is met with a horrifying scene: her family home reduced to ashes and her loved ones are lost in the flames. As she grapples with her devastating loss, her life takes an unexpected turn when she crosses p...
Mabel awoke to the soft, unfamiliar hum of a ceiling fan whirling above her. The room smelled faintly of lavender and something else—warm, earthy, like freshly baked bread. For a moment, she lay there, her eyes blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, her mind clouded in a heavy fog. The bed beneath her was softer than hers had ever been, the sheets clean and pressed.
She wasn't home.
Suddenly, the events of the night before began to flicker in her memory like the shaky frames of an old film. Her chest tightened, her breath catching in her throat. She tried to sit up, but the weight of reality crashed down on her like a tidal wave.
Her family—gone.
She blinked rapidly as the images rushed back: the shouts, the smell of smoke, the blinding fear as her world crumbled around her. She saw their faces—her mother, her father, her little brother—and her heart shattered anew, a jagged pain cutting through her.
Her throat felt tight, the sting of unshed tears blurring her vision. She clutched at the blanket, her knuckles turning white as she tried to breathe through the suffocating grief. The sound of footsteps approached, and a door creaked open gently.
"Mabel?"
The voice was soft, tentative. She looked up to see Lucia standing in the doorway, holding a cup of tea in her hands. Lucia, the kind neighbor she'd seen so many times before, always smiling, always waving when they passed each other on the street. But they'd never exchanged more than a few words. Now, she was here, in Lucia's house, and it all felt so foreign.
"Mabel, sweetie..." Lucia's voice was gentle, but laced with sadness. She stepped into the room, setting the tea on the bedside table. "How are you feeling?"
The question felt absurd. How was she feeling? She had no words for the gaping void inside her, the emptiness that seemed to swallow everything whole. She could only shake her head as tears began to well in her eyes.
"Last night..." Mabel whispered, her voice barely audible. "My family... they're... gone."
Lucia's face crumpled with sympathy. She sat down on the edge of the bed, her hand hesitating for a moment before gently resting on Mabel's arm. "I'm so sorry, Mabel," she whispered. "I can't imagine the pain you're going through. But you're not alone, sweetheart. You're safe here."
Mabel nodded mechanically, but the words didn't reach her. She was safe, yes, but they weren't. Her family was gone, and no amount of safety could bring them back.
Lucia stood and walked to the door, leaving it slightly ajar. A moment later, a small figure appeared in the doorway—Lucia's 16-year-old daughter, Rose. Mabel recognized her from the neighborhood, always playing outside in the yard with her dolls or chasing after a ball. They had exchanged polite smiles before, but nothing more.
Rose looked at Mabel hesitantly, clutching a book to her chest. Her wide eyes, so innocent and filled with curiosity, reminded Mabel painfully of her little brother. He would never run up to her again, never ask her to play, never hug her again.
The weight of that realization crashed down on her, and she broke. Her body trembled as sobs tore from her throat, raw and uncontrollable. She buried her face in her hands, gasping for breath between the waves of grief that consumed her.
Lucia quickly crossed the room, wrapping her arms around Mabel, and holding her tightly as she wept. "It's okay," she murmured softly, rocking Mabel like she would a child. "It's okay to cry, Mabel. Let it out."
Mabel's sobs only grew louder, the pain of her loss too much to bear. She clung to Lucia as though she were drowning, her hands fisting in the fabric of her blouse. "I... I don't know how to—" Mabel choked, her voice breaking. "I don't know how to live without them."
Rose slowly stepped into the room, her small feet shuffling across the floor. She hesitated before approaching the bed, her eyes wide and unsure. She looked at her mother, who gave her a soft nod. Rose then held out a stuffed rabbit to Mabel.
"Here," she whispered, her voice as delicate as the gesture. "You can hold it if you want... It helps when I'm sad."
Mabel lifted her tear-streaked face and stared at the little girl. Her lips trembled as she reached out for the stuffed rabbit, her fingers brushing against its soft, worn fur. Rose climbed onto the bed beside her, sitting cross-legged with her book in her lap, just watching her.
For a moment, they were both silent. Mabel held the rabbit close, the warmth of the little girl's gesture easing some of the ache in her chest. It wasn't much—it could never replace what she had lost—but it was something.
"I'm sorry about your family," Rose said quietly after a long pause, her voice small but sincere. "I hope... I hope you don't feel alone."
Mabel wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, sniffling softly. She looked at Rose, the girl's simple kindness piercing through the fog of her grief. Despite the unbearable sadness, there was something comforting in Rose's presence—something innocent, like the light of a candle in the dark.
"Thank you," Mabel whispered, her voice hoarse. She gave a small, broken smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Thank you, Rose." After a while.
As Mabel sat quietly with Lucia and Rose, the comforting warmth of their presence soothing her frayed nerves, her phone buzzed unexpectedly in her lap. She answered with a shaky breath, and after a moment of silence, an unfamiliar voice filled the air, steady and reassuring. "Mabel, it's your uncle. I'm coming to take you to my house. You don't have to go through this alone."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
***chater-6 Ends Here***
THANKYOU for reading
If you've enjoyed what you've read so far, please don't hesitate to show some love by liking this ! Your feedback not only keeps me motivated but also helps me improve and create content that resonates with you.
And if you have any thoughts, suggestions, or ideas, I would love to hear from you! Drop a comment below—let's start a conversation. Your input is invaluable, and I'm always looking for ways to make this space even better for you.
Once again, thank you for being a part of this journey. I'm excited to continue creating for you and with you.
