By the time we realised it wasn't a drill the fire had reached us. The corridor grew black, it already felt as though there was no clean air in the room. My hand was turning cold instinctively which was not helping me control my heartbeat but before I could have a panic attack Dave had thrown a chair at the window. Thank God for that pretentious twat. There were no flashbacks; I did not think of the best times of my life instead I thought that no matter what I would not die here. Not under their roof, I would not die in a maths class, though my life is sad this death is too pitiful to comprehend. The camera glowed red amidst the flames and the chill ran through my spine, this was a ploy. In the background Dave was making progress with the window, I picked up the projector and started on the door, we were now struggling to cram ourselves into the free space. This was getting worse as more people began throwing any moveable objects they could get to. We were both at risk of burning and injury from heavy objects. People appeared through the glass, students who must live in the building who had made it out the other door. Their expressions were making everything worse yet their presence gave us extra energy. We were like caged monkeys. The window was now smashed and they began pulling people out. As we crowded around the window a student threw a brick through the door. The students became a stampede as the mass of hysterical onlookers began pointing into the maths room, I turned to see our teacher frozen while everyone else clambered out the window risking the shards of glass piercing their skin, if I made it out of this I'd be scarred. Once I reached the window the screams were getting louder though it was inaudible, a haze of white noise, I followed their gaze in just enough time to see my maths teacher, I saw him turn and walk into the fire.
