The fire within

Part 1 - Hopeless

The blazing fire. The crumbling house. The strong smell of smoke wafting through my nose. I could see it all. I had nowhere to go. The fire had managed to get to the closed door of my bedroom. It was surrounding me. I was trapped. I was sweating from the increasing heat of the fire. The smoke was coming in below the door, making me cough. I had to hang tight. Surely someone would come rescue me. That made me feel incredibly guilty, that I was relying on someone else's help when they could also be in danger. I had to do something, because I could tell the room might collapse on me any moment. It was either, sit here helplessly and die, letting everyone else die with me, or escape my room and maybe increase the chances of my family living. I chose the second option. I might die, but it was better than dying here feeling sorry for myself. I lifted my shirt above my nose and dashed for the door. I yelped at how hot the handle was. A piece of plank wood fell from the roof nearly squashing me, and automatically got caught on fire. I screamed and ran as fast as I could through the burning house. I dodged things falling down along the way. I didn't know who survived. I was looking for mum, dad, anyone. All I knew that I was scared to death and that I had to find someone, anyone. I just prayed that mum and dad would be alright. "Hello! Is anybody here! Please, I need help!" I called, my voice hoarse from the smoke. Then I saw her. Mum was struggling just as much as I was. "Mum!" I shouted. The worst thing happened next. She collapsed from exhaustion and the splintery wood cut her, deep. Then something fell on top of her. I couldn't see what but it was big. "No!" I screamed and ran to her side. I tried to lift the furniture and broken wood off of her, but it was so heavy. "Sarah, I'm not going to survive," mum whispered.

"No mum. Don't say that! You will live. You will," I sobbed. I tried harder to remove the heavy objects.

"Stop, I'm injured. You can't save me. Just go Sarah, please, I'll be alright." Mum lay there and died.

"No," I whispered. I lay my head on her body and cried. "I love you mum." I stood up, shaking, and watched her body burn. When I become aware of the fire, I hurried on. A larger piece of the roof collapsed, right near me. My sleeve caught alight. I batted it off, crying and running at the same time. I was exhausted. I stumbled and tripped over a burning wood plank and fell. I landed on sharp bits of broken glass. I winced as it cut my skin. I couldn't get up. It was as if I'd been glued to the floor that was painfully hot. Flames were closing in on me. I screamed painfully. I had to find the will to get up and push on. I heard someone screaming, or maybe that was me. I couldn't be sure. At that moment, the entire house fell down. That was all I remembered.

I sat up quickly, pulse racing. I had slept on a park bench and was wearing old worn out clothes that were a size too small. I'd dreamed about the accident again. I'd dreamed about it a lot lately, for some reason. The memory was still painful, even though it had been three years since the accident. So now, at seventeen years of age, I was homeless and lonely. I ran my fingers over the scar on my arm before hiding it under my sleeve again. I sighed. Just another reminder that I'd lived in that accident and my parents hadn't.

I'd been recovering in hospital for almost a year after the accident (I'd been burnt pretty badly) and I'd been told that I'd been lucky to survive. So much for that. I didn't feel lucky at all. Both my parents had been killed in that accident, I was homeless and broke, and I couldn't afford to go to school anymore. Everyone at school would know about the accident, (it was all over the news) and they probably thought I was dead. My best friend, Rachel probably thinks I'm dead too. I had no way of contacting the school, or even Rachel.

You would wonder how I ever survived here for two years. It was mainly because there was one lady who was nice enough to give me a little leftover food. It was often stale bread but these days, I'll take whatever I can get. That reminded me that I hadn't seen the old lady for ages. I didn't know her name, she never offered one, so I never asked. My stomach rumbled. I hadn't eaten in three days, so I decided to go see if the woman was feeling generous today.

When I reached her house she gave me a little bread. "That's all I've got for you today, miss. Now run along. The rest of the food is for me and my family. We're having a feast." Hearing her say that reminded me of my own family. We used to feast when celebrating. We'd have a blast. There would be dad cracking jokes, and mum and I'd be laughing, enjoying ourselves. I missed those times, I missed my parents, I missed my old life. And all because of that stupid fire.

"Don't give that look missy," she cackled, obviously amused. "It's all I'm giving you."

"Oh, I'm sorry." I gave her a sad smile. "I was just...thinking. And thanks for the bread."

"Don't mention it," she said shooing me away.

I returned to the park and gathered up my belongings: a plastic bottle that I'd filled with water from the well in town, a book of mine that hadn't been ruined in the fire somehow and a rough blanket that I'd bought cheap from a poor looking market sale. I'd only bought it to keep myself warm in the cold winter.

I wandered the streets aimlessly, trying to figure out what to do to fill the day. The morning air was refreshing, it really was a lovely morning, the smell of fresh bread baking, the sound of birds singing, the clear blue sky. It was almost perfect; almost.

In the distance, I could see a family in the park. They were all so happy, the two boys and the father were playing a game of, maybe cricket and the mother was sitting nearby, clapping for them and laughing, having a great time. I smiled sadly.

Seeing them there, so happy, made me think of my family, bringing up memories, but it also made me feel happy for them. I wished I could feel as happy as they were, but ever since the accident, I hadn't been able to feel completely happy, like I could be happy, but not fully happy. It was as if, during the accident, the fire had burnt a hole in my heart, not literally but... I couldn't feel happy wholeheartedly anymore.

Maybe though, just maybe, I would be able to again one day. I hoped that day would be soon because I could feel that something was missing, and it hurt. Bad. So bad that it had made me question things like, why am I living and not my parents? Or what's the point of living when I have nothing left to enjoy in life?

When that happened, I always had to convince myself that I had a purpose. I'd tell myself to keep going and that something wonderful would happen for me one day, I'd just have to wait. But as the days went on, and those days became weeks, and the weeks became months, I'd found it harder and harder to keep up the positive thinking and I'd started to lose hope.

The thought of suicide had crossed my mind before, but I had refused to believe that that was the only way to stop the never ending war going on inside of me. Now, though, it seemed to be the way to go, and it made sense. When I was younger, I had my mind set on living as long as I could, and I hadn't understood why people killed themselves. Now I understood perfectly.

I couldn't continue living like this, I knew I would have to put an end to this mess someday. If I did nothing, I'd have to suffer through my pain until I die from old age. I didn't know how to stop the pain. I didn't know if there was a cure for my aching heart. If there was, I didn't know what.

I looked up at the sky that was now starting to darken. I started searching for somewhere to sleep the night and I realised that I'd gone farther out of town then I'd meant too. There were no benches anywhere around here and I couldn't go back where I'd come, it would be dark by then.

I sighed and settled on a patch of grass under a tree. I rested my back against the tree trunk and pulled my blanket up over me. It was getting cool. I decided to read for a while. I picked up my book and started to read. It was funny this one book survived, it was my favourite. I didn't put my book down until it was dark and I couldn't see the words.