PROLOGUE
ESSENCE
Thick smoke fillsmy throat and lungs, choking me with its pungent fumes. I bolt upright in bed, fully awake now, and look around in alarm.
Covering my face with my shirt to avoid any more smoke inhalation, I blindly reach over to wake up my boyfriend Evan, but my hand only grazes the cool sheet.
“Evan?” I call, coughing as soon as I open my mouth.
Where the hell is he? Did he even come home?
I can slightly make out his work bag by the closet, and that’s all the answer I need.
I quickly get out of bed and go to run out of the room, but my foot catches on something and I go crashing to the floor. I cry out in pain when my temple catches the corner of my bed frame.
“Evan!” I call out again, or I try to anyway, but I feel like I’m going to pass out.
Is this where I’ll die? Alone in the blazing inferno of my bedroom? I hope Evan at least made it out safely.
He didn’t even try to save me.
My head is so heavy, and a sharp pain lances through my skull. Heavy footsteps pound down the hall towards the room,and a voice I don’t recognize calls out, “Is there anybody in here?”
I try to lift my head, try to respond back to let them know that I’m alive and waiting for them to come, but my mouth is too dried up.
Suddenly, someone bursts into the bedroom. He immediately spots me on the floor and rushes over.
Crouching down, he rolls me over, places an oxygen mask over my mouth and nose, and picks me up like I’m featherlight.
“Don’t worry,” he says, his deep voice calming the anxiety creeping up inside me. “You’re safe now. I’m going to get you out of here.”
I want to thank him for saving my life, but I don’t get the chance because everything goes black.
PART I
INTO THE FIRE
CHAPTER 1
ESSENCE
SIX MONTHS LATER
Hot tears burnmy eyes as they pour down my face. I try to reign in my emotions, but the sadness completely takes over and has me needing to take a seat as the finality of this moment hits me.
Leo’s gone. He’s never coming back.
Never in my life did I think I’d end up at the funeral of one of my students, but here I am, dressed in black from head to toe and bawling my eyes out.
I look over at the sleek black child-sized coffin in the middle of the cemetery to where Dante Romano is standing, looking down at the white-trimmed receptacle with the most somber expression on his face. No father should ever have to go through what he’s going through right now.
By the time I got here this morning, the field was already filled with family, friends, and most of my students—Leo’s classmates—so I chose to stay in the back so as not to disturb the service.
Pushing myself out of my chair, I quietly make my way through the sea of people to get to him. On my way, I offer my condolences to his grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins, and I stop to talk to my students and their parents. Dante’s parents are noticeably absent; I know he doesn’t have the best relationship with them, but I’d still expect them to come and help bury their only grandchild.
When I finally reach Dante, I rest a hand gently on his arm to let him know I’m here. He’s been standing in this spot for the past ten minutes. He hasn’t moved, and I’m starting to get a little worried.
“Dante?” I say softly, not wanting to startle him, but I want to make sure he’s okay.
