Page 149 of Ransom

I don't know how I missed it. Too busy thinking about how much of a letdown tonight was, I guess.

Red, yellow, and blue lights flash, glinting off the houses' windows. Smoke hangs thick in the air, stinging my eyes and choking my lungs. I break into a run, my backpack slapping against my back with each step.

No. No, no, no.

It's my house. Our house. Flames lick at the windows, smoke billowing out into the night sky. Firefighters swarm the place, their hoses aimed at the inferno that used to be my home.

I can't breathe. I can't think. This can't be happening.

"Mom! Dad!" I scream, trying to push past a police officer who grabs me.

"Whoa there, kid. You can't go in there."

"But my family-"

His face turns tight and sad. His hands tighten on my shoulders, and he guides me to the other side of the road, pushing me down onto the grass.

The next few hours blur together. Sirens wail. People shout. The neighbors stand around in their pajamas, hands covering their mouths. The smoke burns my nose and makes my throat ache. I sit on the curb, numb, as the firefighters battle the blaze.

Then I sit some more as the flames die, and all that's left is a smoking black thing that used to be a house.

Then I see them. Four black bags on stretchers. And everything stops.

Mom. Dad. My sisters. Gone.

I can't look away as they wheel the bodies past me. What do they look like under those bags? Are they burned? Did they suffer? The images flood my mind - their skin charred, their faces twisted in pain. I lean over, throwing up my grilled cheese in the gutter.

"Looks like it started in the kitchen," a firefighter says nearby. "Right at the stove."

The stove. Where I'd made those stupid sandwiches. Where I'd left that towel. But I turned it off. Didn't I? I remember turning the knob. But I was rushing, focused on getting to my friends.

I didn't check.

This is my fault. I did this. If I hadn't snuck out... if I'd just stayed in bed...

The weight of it crushes me. I can't breathe. I can't move. All I can do is sit there, staring at the smoldering remains of my life, knowing that I'm the reason it's all gone.

I did this.

I killed my family.

46

RANSOM

Ican't lift my eyes from the ground. I don’t want to see the judgment on their faces. The weight of my confession sits heavy in the air, crushing me with each passing second. The track's rubber surface swims before my vision, memories of that night flooding back—the smoke, the sirens, those black bags.

"Jesus. Fuck." Colton's voice comes out low, almost a whisper.

Someone clears their throat, and I force myself to look up. John's intense blue eyes lock onto mine, his face set in that prison-yard stillness that makes most people nervous. But I know him now. Know there's so much going on behind that stare.

"You're a fucking idiot," John says, crossing his massive arms over his chest.

It's not what I expected. Not even close. My mouth opens, but no words come out.

Nick leans forward, his hands clasped between his knees. "What did the report say? Because I know you read it."

The official fire report. I've memorized every word, every detail. "The stove wasn't turned off completely." My voice cracks."And the towel... it didn't land on the counter like I thought. It was on the burner."

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