To Tie A Knot

The Bully Ethel Agenda

(A/N: Comments are much appreciated, if you see a mistake bully me you cowards. Deceit's name is Ethel, I'll explain why if you ask lol)

It was hot.

It was really, really hot.
Ethel's clothes stuck to his slim figure as he tossed and turned in his sleep, desperate to find the sweet relief of slumber. It never came.

The seven year old listened to the sound of nearing sirens, wondering who they could be for. His mother had told him when he was even younger, when he heard a siren, it meant someone was going to be saved. Ethel had prodded further,

'Saved from what, mama?' He had asked that morning, shoveling rice krispies into his mouth.

'All kinds of things babe. If you're in danger, you call 9-1-1, and they'll come and help. Whether there's a bad guy in the house, or you old ma fell down the stairs,' she had teased.

Ethel noticed the sirens grew louder, pondering getting up and watching the lights drive past his windows. They were definitely close enough by now. He became very aware of how sticky and humid his room seemed to be, his blankets heavy and dense. He sat up, flicking on the lamp.

It didn't turn on.

Okay, the bulb must be dead. Perhaps off. The seven year old threw his cover off, swinging his legs onto the floor. It was uncomfortably warm.

Shrugging it off, Ethel got on his knees to check the plug in. It was pushed in all the way. The seven year old finally began to panic, realizing the sirens were deafening.

He shot up, running over to his window. There was a large red firetruck in his driveway, and strange people in scary suits running around. He noticed a red and yellow glow on the ground. One of the firefighters noticed him, pointing up to his second story bedroom.

Ethel froze in terror, ice running through his veins. What was happening?

He ran to his door, desperate to get to his mothers. He grabbed the door handle, attempting to twist. It took a few seconds before the pain set in.

He shrieked, ripping his hand from the knob. His hand and fingers throbbed, his flesh red and blistered. Tears filled his eyes, and he screamed.

The boy trembled, stumbling back away from the door, only now realizing the small flames that licked at the bottom. Somewhere in his small, seven year old mind, it registered what was happening.

"Mama! Mom!" Ethel screamed, trying to get his mother's attention. There was no answer. He became aware of the low roar of fire, the cracking of the wood.

He continued backwards as the flames traveled up the paint, consuming his wall and door. He held a hand in front if his face, the light blinding.

His shoulder brushed a plastic shelf, knocking it over. Papers and books spread across the floor, and the flammable material instantly burst into flame. Soon, half of the boy's room was in flames.

His back now to the window, Ethel stood still with fear. The room was so hot, so unbearably hot. The boy's mouth so dry, so unbearably dry. There was no more room, no more-

And then, it happened.

His pajama sleeve caught fire.