Love is a Language

Into the Fire

Pierre was searching frantically for his bracelet when Miss Trelawny found him. Wherever he thought it had been, it wasn't there anymore. He was tearing the room apart, desperate to find Henry's gift to him. "Pierre!" Miss Trelawny nearly screeched when she saw him. She ran to him and hugged the startled boy so tightly he thought his lungs would burst. "You were supposed to go outside with everyone else!" she chided him as she tried to drag him from the room. "We need to get out of here before the fire gets worse."

"Non, not yet!" Pierre begged, yanking his arm away from her and diving back towards his bed. "I'm sure it's here, it has to be!" He fumbled around on the floor, trying to locate his precious bracelet by feel instead of by sight. As Miss Trelawny grabbed for him again he dove under his bed to search for it. He patted the floor, fingers searching desperately. He let out a cry of triumph when his hand finally rested on Henry's gift to him, and he snatched it up as Miss Trelawny pulled him out from under the bed by his ankles.

"We need to go now, Pierre," Miss Trelawny told him firmly, grabbing onto his free hand and pulling him out of the room. Pierre held the bracelet tightly in his other hand, holding it close to his heart. He could barely keep up with Miss Trelawny's pace, and he nearly tripped over his own two feet. They were only a little ways down the stairs when Pierre really did trip this time, and accidentally yanked Miss Trelawny down with him. They tumbled to the foot of the stairs, and Pierre heard a sickening crack as they fell. It wasn't until they'd reached the bottom of the staircase that the boy realized that Miss Trelawny's grip on his wrist had gone frighteningly limp. Even worse, she hadn't gotten up from where she had finally come to rest after their fall.

He slowly pushed himself up off the ground, wincing a little at the pain coming from areas where fresh bruises were sure to blossom in the next few days. Falling was never painless, especially down an entire flight of stairs. He turned slowly to see what had happened to Miss Trelawny and found her lying frighteningly still on the ground, her face turned away from him and her neck in a position that made Pierre's stomach churn. "Madame Trelawny?" he said tentatively, stiffly crawling to her other side so he could look at her. His stomach churned again when he glanced at her neck, and he quickly forced himself to look away. Necks weren't supposed to twist like that, were they?

When Pierre finally got within her line of sight, he saw that her eyes were closed and her lips were slightly parted, like she was sleeping. But the expression on her face was far from that of a peaceful slumberer. Her brow was furrowed and her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. He could hear her gasping in short, painful breaths without hearing her exhale. Her body was spasming ever so slightly, and her hands had become pained claws that tried to gouge themselves in the floor. Pierre didn't dare reach out and touch her, for fear that the pain she was in would only get worse. He couldn't speak, the woman's silent agony sucking all of his breath and coherent thought out of him.

Suddenly her eyes opened, though they were glassy and unfocused. She was looking at a point over Pierre's shoulder. The boy realized with horror that she probably couldn't see him. He scooted into her line of sight, though her eyes still wouldn't focus. Her lips trembled as she struggled to speak. An ominous cracking noise made Pierre turn, and he saw that the flames were not only getting higher in the back of the house, but they were starting to get closer. Terrified, he looked back at Miss Trelawny for any sort of advice or help she could possibly give him in her state. He leaned down next to her so he could hear anything she told him. He could only hear a few words, but she was repeating them over and over again.

"Go, Pierre, run, go, Pierre, run, go, Pierre..."

Pierre was incredibly reluctant to leave Miss Trelawny lying here like this, especially since there was a very high chance that the fire would burn her before someone came to stop the fire. But he had promised Henry that he would get out of the house safely, and he would never lie to Henry. Ever. He leaned down and pressed a gentle, loving kiss to her temple and touched her hand briefly. "Merci, Madame," he murmured to her, "pour tout. Je ne vous oublierai jamais." With those words, Pierre leapt to his feet and ran to find the nearest door.
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The nearest door was technically the front door, the only way to get there was through a part of the house that was already burning. He'd have to find another way out and make his way to the front so he could meet the other kids. He backtracked quickly and tried to go to the side door. But as he made his to the side door, an explosion rocked the house from the roof to the foundations. Pierre fell flat on his face for the second time that day. He suddenly felt warmer, and not in a good way. When he looked up he saw that the flames were much hotter and much bigger now. He smelled gas, and his stomach jolted in terror.