hømetøwn

• : / twenty seven / : •

Cold lips muttered words that I didn't have the strength to believe. That I didn't have the idiocy to believe.

Hands clenched around my shoulders and shook me. Hands drew me close and forced me to look people in the eye. But I couldn't. They asked the same questions over and over again, and I answered the same way over and over again, until all my words turned numb. Until nothing had any meaning anymore.

My mother had stumbled out the door minutes after I did. She coughed and wheezed and moaned, falling to her knees outside the door. Tears were streaking down her face.

"Ch-Ch-Chloe!"

She crawled forward, eyes bulging. Her voice creaked and snapped.

"Call 911, Chloe! Call -- call -- call 911! I couldn't...get your...father...call -- 911, Chloe!"

I raced to our neighbor's house, but someone had already caught sight of the blaze and called the fire department. Sirens screeched. My neighbors let me stay there, charred and shaking in their kitchen, as the fire trucks  roared into our driveway. I couldn't stop crying.

"Hey, hey, hey," said the father of the home. He rubbed my back and tried to calm me down. I still remember his big brown eyes, and how they glowed down on me like two hopeful planets. I pulled away from him, sobbing.

A small boy peered around the man's leg. His light orange hair stuck up in countless directions.

"Why're you crying?" he said.

"Shush, Connor," hissed the father.

I rubbed my eyes furiously. "Because it was my fault."

"No, sweetie, I'm sure it wasn't," said the father.

But Connor inched forward.

"What'd you do?" he said.

But before I could answer, the door burst open. Connor's father jumped.

"CHLOE!"

My mother sprinted across the room and I hurled myself into her arms. Connor slinked away as we embraced. Tears stung my eyes and my mother smelled like smoke but it was okay because she was still here, and she was warm, and there was still blood rushing under her skin and a light in her eyes, and she was still here, she was still here, she was here, here, here -- but where was Dad? Where was Jeffrey?

I pulled away. "Mom, where are they?"

She swallowed. Her entire body quivered like a leaf in the wind.

"They pulled your father out of it," she whispered. "They've rushed him off to the hospital. But it's not looking good, sweetie, it -- it -- he's inhaled too much smoke, he's burned all over --"

"What about Jeffrey?"

She didn't say anything. Her lips trembled.

"What about Jeffrey?" I said again, voice rising to a hysteric shriek. "WHERE'S JEFFREY?"

"Baby, listen to me --"

I broke away from her. My world spun in shattered fragments around me. Every moment of my life seemed to be colliding -- moments crashing and melting together like a terrible kaleidoscope. Connor watched from across the room, silent. Connor's mom ran to hug my mother. My mother rocked and sobbed in her arms. I stumbled away, the world careening around me. Connor and his father followed me.

"It was my fault," I gasped.

"No, sweetie," said the father again. "It wasn't your fault."

"It was. It was. It was."