Cursed Fire (Working Title)

Chapter One

The phone interrupted Mr. and Mrs. Phillips' sleep. Camellia Phillips sat up slowly, she muttered under her breath about being startled half to death and how awfully late it was. Benjamin Phillips sat up with his wife; he could not imagine what was possibly going on at this hour, though the look of sheer horror on his wife's face made him instinctively put a hand on her shoulder and beg for what she had heard.

"T-the hospital," Mrs. Phillips stuttered. "Lily and Hunter died." She wanted to throw up just saying it. Her own baby sister died in a fire, the baby sister she had looked after once summer began and her mother was working; the baby sister that would drive Camellia crazy, but would die for without second thought. She was not sure when she had started crying, but she could feel hot tears streak down her face.

"Annabelle?" Mr. Phillips thought of his niece. "Is she okay?" He had wrapped his arms around his wife to comfort her.

Mrs. Phillips did not say anything.

"Is she okay? Is she alive?"

Still, she said nothing.

"Camellia, tell me something!" He had shouted desperately.

Mrs. Phillips explained that Annabelle was okay, the firefighters had found her unconscious. They had talked awhile about what Mrs. Phillips needed to do, it was decided that Evelyn, their daughter, would travel with Mrs. Phillips to fly to Idaho and bring Annabelle to their home to Maine. Since Annabelle was born, Eve had loved the little girl, Mrs. Phillips and Lily had often joked about how they were more like sisters than they were cousins. Every other summer Eve would stay at her aunt and uncle's home, and in the summers in between Annabelle visited the Phillips home.

"Eve. Sweetie, I need you to wake up." Mrs. Phillips gently shook her daughter's shoulder.

Evelyn had woken up with a start; she looked around the dark frantically. "Mom?" At first she could't see anything in the dark, but her eyes soon adjusted. "Mom, it's three in the morning what are you doing?"

"Honey, pack up a bag for a few days. I need to pack some clothes for Annabelle too. Please just do it, I will tell you when you're packed."

Eve was going to question her mother, but she got the sense the sorrow from her mother's tone. "Okay, Mom."

Mrs. Phillips quietly walked down the staircase, not wanting to wake Billy or Sean as early as she had woken Eve. The scent of coffee had greeted Mrs. Phillips at the landing, when she walked into the kitchen her husband had handed her a cup and was already preparing a thermos for Eve, knowing that his daughter would stumble out the door at the last second. Mr. Phillips always made comments about her lateness such as, "She came into the world late and she takes her time doing anything and everything. I wouldn't be surprised if she made Death wait."

"Can I know now?" Eve had quietly entered the kitchen, with a slightly annoyed tone.

Mr. Phillips sat his daughter down at the kitchen table, and took his turn to explain the situation; he could not stomach watching his wife relive the pain again. However, he had not thought of the pain he would see hit his daughter. When Lily and Hunter had first married they had lived in their house, Eve did not know a life without the couple. At least once a week since they had moved out Eve had talked to the Thompsons on the phone, even when they lived in Europe for a year. The utter devastation on Eve's face was replaced with a sort of odd determination. Eve knew she had to be there for Annabelle and her mother.

Annabelle had woken up in the hospital before any family had arrived. She had no idea where she was and began to panic, instinctively calling out for her mother. An older nurse had arrived moments after Annabelle's yelling to assist her.

"What's the matter, dear?" The nurse asked trying to calm her down. "My name's Jamie." She had told her. "And you're Annabelle, yes?"

Annabelle nodded. "Where's my mom? A-and my dad,"

It was then that Mrs. Phillips and Eve had walked in. "If you could excuse us, Miss." She had whispered. The nurse nodded and exited the room, telling them how to get a hold of the nursing staff if needed.

"What's going on?" Annabelle looked from Eve to Mrs. Phillips.

"I'm going to get some coffee." Eve left the room, unable to handle what was about to happen.

"Annabelle, your house caught fire. Do you remember anything like that?" Mrs. Philips swallowed against her tight throat.

Annabelle shook her head. She had not remembered, but she pieced together what was likely to have happened. Annabelle thought she was being over dramatic, and tried to tell herself that her parents were just badly burned, but will make a full recovery.

"I'm so sorry. You were the only one that made it out." Mrs. Phillips avoided saying that they were dead or had passed away. She could not handle hearing or saying it again.

Her mouth hung open slightly. Tears rushing down her cheeks before she could even fight them back. Silent tears turned to sobs, and those sobs turned into Annabelle coughing, and eventually throwing up in a nearby container. Mrs. Phillips went to hold her niece, but was pushed away. Annabelle was too busy thinking of her parents, too busy thinking about how it was her fault. "Please, go away." Her voice was hoarse. She had thrown the blankets over her face to hide; she was consumed with her guilt and could not stop thinking of how it was her. Annabelle did not know how she had done it, but she made the fire. But right now none of that mattered. Right now she was completely alone.

Eve was sitting in the empty waiting room down the hall. She had been searching through her aunt's Facebook looking at pictures; Eve could not help getting lost in her memories of Lily. The cool aunt who taught her how to braid hair, who told her that beauty comes from within, and who always made her feel special. Lily was someone she could always trust, no matter what Eve told her it never went back to her mother unless Eve was in harm's way. One of her earliest memories was when she spent a summer with her Aunt Lily and Uncle Hunter, Eve had been five years old and Annabelle was only three. It was an odd thing for such a happy memory to become one that brought her to tears so easily now.

"Do you remember when you were having a hard time with that awful boy at school?" Mrs. Phillips slipped in while Eve was lost in thought. Her purple sweater was buttoned incorrectly and from what Eve could tell the tank top underneath was inside out.

"Uncle Hunter taught me how to throw the 'perfect punch'" Eve smiled. "He said I would't only be safe from the guy, I would also be 'super cool'." Eve did the accurate impression of her Uncle that used to make them laugh, but it could only bring faint smiles now.

Mrs. Phillips smiled, putting her arm around her daughter's shoulder and pushed Eve's purple hair back in the comforting way only a mother could. She could not help but feel selfish in her thoughts, she kept thinking about how unfair this all was. The older sister was not supposed to see her baby sister die; Lily was supposed to be the one that longed for a final goodbye, not her.

"Hunter was the first person to call me Eve." She mentioned. "He told me that you and Dad were so religious that I should tell people you named me that, tell people you always said I was damned to hell for being a woman."

"I don't think I ever stopped being mad at him for that." Mrs. Phillips found it in her to chuckle.

"And then Lily said I was only ever allowed to meet a nice boy named Adam to marry."

The mother and daughter continued to reminisce about the deceased family. They had silently agreed it had felt good to laugh, even though they felt somewhat guilty. Eventually they had returned to Annabelle's room, they had found her sleeping again. Mrs. Phillips prayed she could help Annabelle through life without her parents, but she did not know where to begin raising her.