Metanoia

Chapter 7~I thank the pancake gods

•Chapter 7•

"It was a Sunday night. The whole family was home. Suddenly, there was a yell. It came from the kitchen. It was from my mother. Being the little, nosy kid I was, I ran in to check out the situation. It was red, yellow and orange.

The smoke alarm was triggered and water blasted through the sprinklers, but it did nothing to control the flames. The fire spread rapidly and quickly. I was only seven back then. I didn't know what to do. I stood there, just watching the flame burn and engulf furniture.

My mother grabbed my tiny hand and was about to dash out of the house when I wriggled out of her grasp. Why? All because of my beloved stuffed-bear, Jason, which I named after my brother. She called out my name behind me but I chose to ignore it. I ran past my brother who was twelve at that time.

"Maddie where are you going?" my brother hollered after me.

"I need to get Jason! The other one!" I shouted back, still running. I coughed. The smoke was making it difficult to breathe. I finally reached my bedroom and grabbed Jason. My brother had followed me.

"We have no more time! Quick! Hop on my back!" I did as told. He sprinted out of the room and went down the stairs at lightning speed. By now, the entire kitchen and half the living room was engulfed in flames.

"NO!" I yelped when I accidentally dropped Jason.

"I'm sorry there's no more time!"

I tried reaching for the bear but it was far behind.

"Oomph." Jason tripped and that gave me time to bolt towards my bear.

"Maddelyn! No!"

His eyes widened. Out of nowhere, a piece of burning ceiling fell. I jumped back as tears came rushing down my rosy cheeks.

I then realised what situation I was in. The smoke accumulated, making it harder to breathe by every second. My father rushed in. Creases lined his worried face.

"Papa! What do I do?" I screamed.

He came closer. "Jump!"

I leapt, landing safely into his arms. Jason's feet were still rooted to the ground. My father yanked his arm, dragging him towards the door. That was now in fire. Father froze in his tracks. The carpet that was placed in front of the door was starting to burn up.

"Shit." he muttered.

Acting fast enough, he grabbed a plastic chair and threw it at the door. Then the worst thing that could happen, happened. He tripped. With all his might, my father shoved us forward. Luckily for me, I had landed outside, on our front yard porch.

Jason though, did not. He hit his head on a nearby wall and his right arm and leg came into contact with the flames for quite a while before regaining his posture. His skin and flesh were burnt, his shirt caught on fire but painfully, I watched him struggle as he took it off. My mother splashed him with some water she had out there.

That day I heard the most agonizing shriek I'd ever hear.

On top of all of that, he was coughing uncontrollably as he held his chest area.

Bedo-bedo-bedo. Sirens. The first fire truck  and ambulance arrived. Fire fighters and paramedics rushed off their respective vehicles.

Just as my father was about to get up and leave the house, the blazing ceiling fuqing collapsed. I watched in horror as my father get crushed, literally, before my very eyes. I wanted to run in and dig him out but the fireman held me back, leaving me screaming and struggling to break free. All the fireman had to say was, "Sorry kid."