Family >>Phan

Rebooting

For text messages, to make it easier to read I will add a colored diamond before the text to show who's it is.
🔸= Dan's texts
🔹= other people

Also please do not be offended or felt targeted by anything discussed in this story, it's not meant to be ignorant or offensive💕

I land on a little area of grass outside the small window, my knees buckle and I roll onto the sidewalks pavement.
Abrasion from the pavement, burns from the fire, and heartbreak from my brothers highly probable death.

Our downstairs neighbors wait on the sidewalk beside Adrian, Anna, and my mom. Slowly, I make my way over to them.

"Is Ryan out here?" I ask, my bottom lip quivering. I know the most probable answer. Adrian breaks down into tears again. Anna tugs at his sleeves and frowns. He hoists her up to his waist and she clings to him, beginning to cry too, it's contagious.

Martha (wife neighbor) rubs circles into my mothers back supportively.  Martha's husband, Albert, watches as red devours his home with an emotionless face.

Finally, the ambulance and firefighters arrive, getting to work as soon as they leave their vehicles.

"Is everyone out of the building ma'am?" A women worker asks.

"My son is-" breath, cry, cough, "is s-still in there!" She whimpers.

The team strives to put the flames.      Eventually they do, but for what? To have this place knocked down later anyways? Should have let it burn.

  Now it's just charred, unstable wood. Not the home it used to be or mean. All we've worked for. All we've saved and cherished. Gone. Burned to the ground.

A body is hauled out by a strong black woman. Ryan's.

"How did it happen?" Martha speaks for my mom.

"We think it was a cigarette?" A man replies looking for confirmation from his co-worker then nodding when they agree. "It probably caught something old and dry. Maybe a carpet or something?" Only Ryan and Adrian's room had a carpet. If that's true, then one of them must have caused it.

"Did you find her son?"

"Yes actually. But... Miss Howell?" She looks up to him, "I have reason to believe your son was dead before the fire." He avoids eye contact and rocks back and forth on his heels.

  His words repeat constantly in my mind. 'Cigarette...dead before the fire.' I never thought Ryan would actually do this.

"Did you find anything else?" I ask, "W-why would you think he was dead before the fire?!" I try to stay calm, but the way my sadness switches to anger shows clearly in the way my voice's volume raises.

  The man stares hard at my injured arms and legs, then pries away his gaze, returning it to my eyes.

"Son, do you need medical care for that?" He asks in a stern voice and gestures to my burns and cuts. A lot from the fire and others that I can just say are from the fire if anyone else asks.

"One, never call me son. Two, I'm fucking fine just answer our damn questions." I demand, my voice cracking on the last few words and a cough erupting afterwards.

"Alright alright. But are you sure you don't want to get checked up? Just to make su-"

"I said I'm fine."