Page 5 of Fragile Sanctuary

I groaned as I flopped back on my pillows. Freaking little sisters. Guilt flickered in my belly, tiny pinpricks against my flesh. I should’ve gone after her. But I was so dang tired. I’d make it right in the morning. I’d bring her the shirt and her favorite lip gloss of mine, and all would be right with the world. But right now, I needed sleep.

Something teased my nose,spreading through my airways and tickling the back of my throat. A cough had my eyes fluttering. I blinked against the dark room. The moon wasn’t quite as bright, having disappeared behind a wall of clouds. But even with less light, I knew something was wrong.

That was when I heard it. The wail of an alarm. I frowned as another cough racked me. The source of the smell hit me fast and hard.

Smoke.

I jerked upright, trying to swing my legs out of bed, but they got tangled in the sheets. My upper body kept right on going, my palms hitting hard on the rug beside my bed. The fibers dug into my skin as I pulled myself out of the knot of linens and struggled to my feet.

Another coughing wave hit me, and I dropped low again, images of the firefighter who’d come to visit my fifth-grade class filling my mind.Drop low. Cover your mouth if you can.

I grabbed a fallen piece of clothing—the same shirt Emilia had dropped earlier.Emilia.I pressed the gauzy fabric over my nose and mouth and crawled toward the door.

Emilia’s room was down the hall, closer to my parents’. She’d been scared when we first moved into the house six years ago. It was so different from our Manhattan apartment. She’d had nightmares and disrupted sleep for the first month and had opted for the room next to my parents’ instead of the one next to mine as they’d originally planned.

Reaching the door, I slowed as another command flashed in my head.Feel the doorknob.I lifted a hand, gently tapping the brass fixture. Heat bloomed in my palm the moment I touched it.

A fresh wave of panic ripped through me as tears stung my eyes. I didn’t know what to do. This was the only way out of my room. And it wasn’t like I had a phone. Both my parents were staunchly opposed to me having my own line or, God forbid, a cell phone. And now, I was trapped.

I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, but I barely noticed. More smoke billowed in from under the door. I was running out of time.

“Mom!” I screamed. “Dad!” But there was no answer.

Maybe they’d gotten out. Maybe things were just blocked between me and them. But I had to open my door to see.

I worried the raw spot on the inside of my cheek, the pain keeping me in the here and now. I wrapped the shirt around my hand and twisted the doorknob. The moment the door opened, a wall of flame burst forward.

I scrambled back with a strangled scream that sent me into acoughing jag. The flames licked forward in a dance that would’ve been beautiful if it weren’t so terrifying. Smoke billowed into my room like a monster from long-ago nightmares.

Fear spiked and had me tumbling farther into my room until my back hit the wall. My lungs seized in a vicious squeeze. Out. I had to get out.

My hands fumbled, feeling across the wall. The intricate woodwork gave way to windows. I stumbled and tumbled until I hit the doorknob for the French doors that led to my balcony.

It took three tries to get the door to do what I wanted. As it finally flew open, a gust of fresh air hit me in the face. It only made me cough harder. I pulled myself onto the ledge, the wood planks skinning my knees through my thin pajamas.

My hands curled around the wooden rods holding the railing as fire blazed brighter behind me. So much heat. It made my skin feel like it was crackling.

I scanned my surroundings, looking for a way out, for help. There was nothing. I had to pray a neighbor had seen the blaze in the distance and called for help, but there was no guarantee. It was the middle of the night.

Glancing at the ground, I tried to judge the distance of the drop. I didn’t think the fall would kill me, but I’d definitely get some broken bones. Still, that was better than burning alive.

I looked to my right and caught sight of a drainpipe. It looked antique, just like the rest of the house. Struggling to my feet, I made my way over to it and pressed a hand to the surface. It was warm but not hot. Maybe I could use it to slide down the side of the house.

A deafening boom sounded from inside, nearly sending me flying over the side of the railing.

Now.I had to move now.

I threw one leg over the railing, not letting myself look down, then the other. I scooted over to the drainpipe and grasped it as hard as I could. It was affixed to the house with brackets that gave me some footholds.

Squeezing my eyes closed for a moment, I shifted completelyto the pipe. The metal dug into my bare feet and pain flared, but I ignored it.

Holding as tightly as possible with my hands, I let myself down a bit until my toes felt another metal bracket. Cracks and snarls sounded from inside the house as if the fire were a living, breathing thing. And maybe it was.

The pipe got hotter as I tried to shimmy down it, and fear bloomed in my belly. I was closer to the ground but not close enough to jump. Tears streamed down my face. I wanted my dad. He always knew what to do. We’d talk a problem round and round until I found the solution right along with him. But he wasn’t here. And I didn’t want to think about what that meant.

The fire seemed to go silent for a moment—a terrifying quiet I should’ve recognized as a precursor to the worst. There was almost a faint whistling sound and then nothing but flames.

Agony wrapped around me in that blanket of fire. If I hadn’t been so consumed by the pain, I would’ve realized I was falling. And then, thankfully, there was nothing but the blessed dark.

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