The fire was all-consuming. The heat pulses through my skin; it tears through my muscles and engraves itself deeply into my bones. I had never been so terrified in my whole life.

No.. no.. no.

The words are stuck in my head like a broken record. I close my eyes and mumble a quick prayer with the hope that the scene before me would magically disappear.

My eyes flutter open when the roof groans in protest. The frightening sight before me causes wave after wave of fear to course through my body. I shudder as I throw my hands over my head and shrivel into myself; shoulders hunched, hips and knees bent.

My body doles out buckets of sweat to help it cool down. But the moisture sizzles and vaporizes within seconds. My lips itch and crack with the dryness, and I lick and lick... and nothing. My throat feels swollen and rough. I can't even swallow.

It was useless.

A wasted effort. One that leaves me feeling like a dried prune.

Panic continues to devour all rational thought and my stomach heaves in response. I slap a hand against my mouth and look around. There had to be a way to escape. I knew it. But it was so hard to find in all the smoke and flames. Desperately, I continue my search. However, my eyes grow wider as the fire creeps closer. It eats away the floor; what was once beautifully polished walnut hardwood was now, nothing more than an angry red pit. The curtains are transformed from their pastel green to tendrils of orange; bits and pieces of burnt fabric floated down. 

Helpless, I can do not much more than watch as the furniture mutates into unidentifiable piles of crackling and smoldering wood.

Something pops, and I swing around to face the noise.

The large windows I once admired, look back at me; grotesque in the way they concave and convex with the heat.

The reflection of the starving orange demon flickering with the promise of gruesome death hypnotizes me.

As I watched the demon consume everything that had been my life, the realization that I could escape, charred. 

I was going to burn to death.

In my own house.

All because I chose to love.

Defeated and overwhelmed, I let my knees buckle and my body crashes to the floor in a forlorn pile.

In my little corner that was still untouched by the flames, I cover my eyes with my hands and sob.  There seemed nothing else for me to do. It was only a matter of time before the fire reached me. 

I hiccup as the smoke engulfs me. Thick and black and awful. It was a mix of everything that was burning; plastic, cloth, wood, and varnish. The dreadful smell fills my nose and burns its way down to my lungs. I could breathe, and yet ... I couldn't.

Closing my eyes, I embrace the undeniable.

It was then that a small voice calls to me. It pushes me not to give up. It urges me to clamber to my feet. The only sound playing in my head now is the small voice. Mama, it cries again!

I needed to get out! The emotions I felt were so strong that I felt clearheaded for the first time since the fire began.

I look around me and spot the three feet of cloth that pooled around my legs. The dress I was wearing was a fire hazard. All it would take is a tiny spark close enough to latch on to me, like a parasite. Only worse. I would have a better chance of not getting burnt if I ripped my gown off.  

With a sense of urgency, I grab at my skirt and pull. The ripping sound was quickly followed with a crash; the hoop I wore under my dress received the same harsh treatment. I tug at my sleeve next and use the torn bit to cover my nose.

Turning around, I search for an escape. The windows groan again. If only they would shatter, I could climb out!

I gingerly take a few steps forward. No longer could I see the orange demon reflecting within. Now all I saw was concern.

It wasn't concern for myself, no. I couldn't care less if I lived or died. There were others. Concern for their safety, that's what reflected on the window. I run forward and slap my hand against the glass.

It was hot. Hot unlike anything I've ever felt before. Hot enough to melt the skin right off my hand. The roar of the fire muffles my agonized shriek.

I try to pry my hand away, but it feels stuck.

Numbness soon follows the unimaginable searing pain. I couldn't feel anything; the skin and nerves in my hand now damaged beyond repair.

Shivers and shudders overtake my body. I can't see. I can't breathe. I can't get out.

My breathing shallows and my heart races.

I drop the cloth and use my uninjured hand to yank at my arm. I lift it and slam it against the window hoping it would give. But it doesn't.

Unable to continue, my legs give way, and I fall to my knees. My burnt hand sinks down the length of the window, leaving a trail of melted tissue and blood.

A series of quick pops later, the glass finally gives.

As the flames begin to lick at my feet, I use what's left of my energy to raise myself to the ledge.

Rolling myself over, I let go.

Shards of hot glass dig into my side and my legs, but I don't care.

I'm out. I'm free!

I crawl away from the burning house, stopping only long enough to gulp down large mouthfuls of clean air.

When the distance feels safe, I stop moving and hug the grass; relieved but exhausted.

I close my eyes. Just for a minute, I tell myself. I need to rest for a minute.

-------------

Vigorous shaking awakes me.

Blinking away the sleep, I look into the kind eyes of a woman. Her expression betrays her curiosity. She says something, but I don't understand her language. I look behind her and there stand a few more women. Their expressions are similar.

As I sit up, I take in my surroundings. The last thing I remember was going to sleep in my bed. And now, I'm out in the garden.

Did I spend the night here? If so, did I sleepwalk? Those bits I cannot remember. What I do remember, is the nightmare. It had felt so real!

"Bollocks," I mutter as I get up. There's no time to figure that out. Right now, I need these women to stop staring at me like I was some kind of freak!