Prolouge

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Prologue: Flames

My Mom and I are on our way home from Clifty River in Sparta Tennessee. We had spent all day walking along the river, enjoying the view and wading in the shallows. We sang along to a song on the radio, laughing and smiling. Suddenly, Mom's car swerves slightly and the car catches fire. I scream and she stops the car with a screech. we both began to hastily unbuckle our seatbelts, but before we could get out, the car explodes.


That's the last thing I remember from that night. My Mom and I are now in the hospital. The doctors say she's in a coma and they don't know when she'll wake up. I was lucky to receive no serious injuries, just a few cuts from glass and a minor concussion.

A few days pass and I'm discharged from the hospital and my stepfather comes to pick me up and take me home. When I arrive I see my real dad and his kids, who rushed up to me and caught me in a group hug. When they let me go, I run up to my father and wrap my arms around him.
"Hey, baby girl." He says, looking down at me and smiling.
"Hello," I say, smiling back and nuzzling into his chest.
He paused, then began to speak.
"Baby, I need to tell you something." He says, and I feel the vibrations of his voice through his body.
"Yes?" I reply, drawing back.
"Your stepdad and I agreed that it would be good if you came to live with me, your brothers and sister." He looked into my eyes and waited for my answer.
"I . . . I don't know what to say." I shake my head. "It's just . . ." I pause. "I want to be there for Mom when she gets out," I say, looking up at him.
"I know you do kiddo, but we don't know what is going on with her," Dad says. "A while ago me and your mom made a deal that if something happened to her you would come live with me."
"Why wouldn't you involve me in that?" I say angrily
"I'll give you two weeks to choose and if you haven't I will choose for you," he replies irritatedly, avoiding my question.
I grumble and go upstairs to my room, slamming the door and flopping face first onto my bed with a huff.

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