Heart Me

32

As the fire raged around them, Stone and Iris clung to each other, their bodies pressed tightly together as if the very force of their hug could hold back the flames. The heat that approached, the choking smell of smoke, and the overwhelming sense of dread weighed heavily on them, pushing their hearts into a frenzied, panicked rhythm. Every breath felt like a desperate gasp, and every second stretched into an eternity. Their minds, racing with terror, clung to the images of their children-innocent faces, bright eyes, and laughter that now seemed a world away. The thought of never seeing them again, of leaving them alone in the world, was a pain sharper than any flame could bring. Stone's heart pounded violently in his chest, a primal urge to protect, to fight, battling against the sheer hopelessness of their situation. He could feel Iris trembling against him, her breath warm and inconsistent against his neck. The panic was mutual, the fear shared. They were both drowning in it, and yet, they held on to each other, as if the solidity of their bond could attach them in this storm. But then, something changed. Through the haze of his terror, Stone noticed the smoke creeping in from under the bathroom door, curling into the room like a sinister fog. The realization hit him like a slap. Time was running out faster than he'd thought. He opened his eyes wide, forcing himself to focus, and pulled away from her just enough to look into her eyes. The deep, raw fear he saw mirrored in them tore at his heart, but he knew he had to pull her back from the edge.

"Iris!" He called out, his voice rough and urgent, shaking her gently but firmly, trying to snap her out of the paralysis that had gripped her. Her eyes blinked rapidly, as if trying to clear the fog of fear that clouded her thoughts. "Iris, listen to me!" His tone was commanding, a desperate attempt to impose some order in the chaos. "We need more towels. Anything to block the smoke. Now!"

His words seemed to slice through the haze, and she nodded, a shaky breath escaping her lips. She pushed herself to her feet, moving with a renewed, frantic energy. The room was spinning, her hands trembled as she grabbed the remaining towels from the shelf. Panic was a tangible force, clinging to her like a second skin, but she forced herself to focus on the task, handing the towels to Stone. He took the damp towels from her, his movements quick, as he bent down and pressed them against the gap under the door. The smoke was relentless, dark fronds that sought to claim every bit of air, but he fought against it with everything he had. Every muscle in his body was taut, his mind running on pure adrenaline, blocking out everything but the immediate need to protect. To survive. As he pushed the towels against the door, sealing it as best as he could, a part of him prayed that it would buy them more time, that somehow, some way, they would make it through this.

"There are some clothes in the basket I didn't take to the laundry." Stone said, his voice steady despite the urgency of the situation. "Put something on." Iris stared at him, bewildered and lost in the chaos of the moment. "We're naked! We're wrapped in towels and slippers." He explained. "Iris..."

"We're not getting out of this." Iris cried. Her panic threatening to consume her.

Stone quickly wrapped his hands around her shoulders, giving her a gentle shake to snap her out of it. "Listen to me." His eyes locking onto hers with a fierce intensity. "We are getting out of here. You hear me?" Iris nodded, though her gaze remained distant, lost in a haze of fear. Stone's heart ached to hold her, to protect her from the terror that had gripped her. "If we want to see our children again, we have to try. We have to fight."

"Okay..." Iris whispered. Her voice shaky but resolute. She turned around, gathering the strength she needed to move forward.

Iris moved with frantic purpose, her body trembling as she approached the basket overflowing with clothes. Her hands sifted through the tangled fabrics with a desperate urgency, her mind too clouded by fear to care about matching or appearance. She grabbed the first things her fingers touched: a pair of sweatpants and a random shirt, and hurled them at Stone, not even registering whether they were his or hers. Her focus was singular, driven by the instinct to survive. She then reached for herself, snatching a pair of her leggings and one of his shirts, the familiarity of the clothes doing little to calm her racing heart. There was no time to think, no time to consider anything but getting covered, getting protected, getting out. The fear gnawed at the edges of her thoughts, but she forced it down, channeling everything into action.