You Won't Feel A Thing - (The Script Fanfic)

Chapter 22

Awareness rushed into my body, waking me from my daze. I knew that I needed to move quickly. I had no idea how long I had been out, but there was no time left to be sitting around, feeling sorry for myself.

Struggling to take control of my actions, I managed to crawl through the damage. The walls of the van were dented, making the space I was trapped in seem smaller. The back doors still weren't open. They were misshapen, but definitely not open. Some of the metal had split on the top of the van (or was it the top? Who knew knew what way up we were?), causing sunlight to burst through. It seemed too orange to be sunlight...

I didn't question it. I dragged my body across the floor, trying to reach the back doors. I knew my head had been cut open slightly as the warmth of blood trickled down the side of my face. I realised that I was feeling extremely hot, whether that being a false heat being portrayed by my mind or whether it being true, I tried to ignore it.

I reached the back doors. I placed my hand on the metal door. I recoiled as I felt how hot it was. I gasped as I looked down at the burn the door had cause to my hand.

Warmth + orange light... Realisation kicked in. Flames. It's on fire.

I looked back up at the split in the metal where I had seen the flames. I hadn't noticed before, but smoke was quickly flowing into the space, contaminating the air. I forced my body onto the ground remembering that heat rises. Keep your breathing slow. Swiftly, I managed to rotate my body around, pushing my feet up against the doors. With all my strength, I began driving my legs towards the door, trying to force them open.

"Come on." I heard myself saying as I kept pushing my legs forward. I tried to reposition my aim, hoping it would have more of an effect in that position. No evidence of my effort was imprinted into the metal. My muscles began to give in. I looked up to see that much more smoke had entered the space.

I rotated my body back around, facing the doors. "Help!" I began screaming. Maybe the person who had crashed into the side of the van would rescue me. "Somebody help!"

By accident, I sucked in a breath of pure smoke. I began choking on the thick substance clogging my throat. Retching, I bent over, threatening to empty my stomach. The smoke clung onto my lungs tightly. I tried to inhale a deep breath of pure air, but I couldn't. Everywhere seemed to be full of the poisonous substance. My muscles gave up sitting up, screaming at me to inhale oxygen. Smoke filled my eyes. Tears streaming down my face, I tried yelling out for help one last time. It was a tragic attempt.

Wheezing, I rested my hands flat on the floor, my head resting upon them. A small amount of air entered my lungs, still not fulfilling the needs of my body.

I'm not ready to die. It can't end like this.

I made one last feeble attempt to escape. Somehow, I managed to sit up, quickly manoeuvring myself around. I pulled my leg back, ready to kick, when the door was opened from the outside. Standing in the doorway was a figure, silhouetted by smoke. They clambered in, reaching under my shoulders to drag me to my feet.

Before I knew it, I was out of the burning van, gulping fresh breaths of air. I dropped to my knees and emptied the contents of my stomach. The acidic taste of bile lingered in my mouth along with the foul taste of smoke. I continued retching even though there was nothing left to come up.

"God. You're so dramatic."

I looked up, recognising the voice. Staring in disbelief, I began to sit up normally.

"I told you everything would be okay."