Dark Corners / ✓

eleven: of memories

"On a long enough time line, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero." - Tyler Durden, Fight Club

I'm torn from sleep that night by the sounds of my fire alarm going off.

I shot up in bed, eyes going wide as I heard the loud, shrill ringing noise. I didn't smell anything - which was enough to tell me that the fire wasn't in my apartment - but I could hear pounding footsteps from outside my apartment and voices calling for us to get out. In a rush, I grabbed a sweater to pull over myself, tore my phone from the charging cable, and quickly walked through my apartment.

I flung the door open to a mass of people, but one specific caught my eye - Griffin. He was standing in front of his apartment, awkwardly trying to mingle in with the mess of people on our floor, but he kept getting pushed out of the way. A guy in a security outfit (I recognized him; I had seen him in the lobby a few times) was standing by the stairs and promising everyone that the police and fire department would be here soon.

Suddenly I felt someone tug roughly on my arm, pulling me out of my haze. I blinked, heart racing in nervousness, and met Griffin's intense blue eyes. Without saying anything, Griffin tightened his grip slightly and pulled me over to the steps.

"Everyone walk in an orderly fashion down the steps. Someone will be waiting in the lobby to escort you outside. Please hurry, we need to evacuate this floor as fast as possible!"

My heart was racing in nervousness, and the smell of smoke finally met my nostrils. I whipped my head around frantically, ignoring Griffin's persistent tugging, and saw thick, dark sheets of smoke dancing up from the cracks of a closed door. I squinted through the haze, eyes landing on the numbers on the day.

Griffin's apartment.

I opened my mouth to say something, but suddenly a group of firemen and police officers started running up the stairs, gently pushing us out of their way. I caught a glimpse of a fireman pushing open the door before Griffin grabbed my arm again and pushed me in front of him, urging me to walk faster.

We broke into the lobby quickly and a police officer put his hands on our shoulders and led us outside, putting us a good distance away from the apartment complex. My heart was racing and I was sweating, staring up at the building in horror. I couldn't fathom how there could be a fire in the apartment complex I lived in. I couldn't fathom how it came from Griffin's apartment.

I looked up at the guy next to me, who's hand was now gently wrapped around my forearm, fingers rubbing on my arm lightly, "Griffin, what happened?"

Griffin stared straight in front of him, jaw locked tightly as he muttered out, "A fire."

Someone bumped into my shoulder, knocking me back before I could say anything else to Griffin. The entire front parking lot of the apartment complex was filled with people - families holding tightly to their children, people half-asleep and in pajamas, and some just staring in utter confusion at the building, mumbling questions and angry comments.

I wasn't sure how long we all stood out there - it had to be less than an hour, but I couldn't pinpoint an exact time. All I knew was that I stood next to a silent Griffin, a thousand and one questions running through my mind. How had the fire started? Had it spread to my apartment? Who had pulled the fire alarm? Why hadn't the sprinklers gone off? Why the fuck wasn't anyone saying anything to else?

The front door open and the same group of police officers and firemen walked out, sweaty and seemingly annoyed. The manager of our apartment complex walked over to them quickly and began talking, waving their hands and mumbling things too quiet for any of us to hear.