He would never know how much she loved him. The fear that had held her back from saying those words seemed insane now. She’d give anything to go back to the night before, while he held her down in her bed, pounding into her from behind, telling her over and over what a pretty, dirty girl she was. And how much he loved it. How much he loved her. No matter how much, she didn’t say the words, Trey never hesitated to tell her exactly how he felt. To make sure she knew. She’d go back and tell him how much she loved him throwing her around like his own sexual rag doll, then cradling her against his chest and whispering the sweetest words into her ear.
Claws dug into her back through the thick canvas bag, and Charlotte yelped at the sting of her cat’s sharp talons. But the pain broke her from the panic induced introspection. Calming her mind without the ability to practice her breathing exercises took effort, but she managed it, and took another look around.
To her right, the fire extinguisher she’d discarded to fight with her cat practically winked at her. She pulled it into her arms and rose up onto her knees, moving as fast as she could to her bedroom window.
She acted before the plan fully formulated in her mind. With all her strength, Charlotte pull the heavy tool back, and swung it forward, breaking the glass in the ancient windows. She was suddenly very happy her landlord sucked and never invested in upgrades to the house. Fresh air whooshed into the room for a split second before the smoke surged forward pushing it back out again. Not bothering to pick the remaining glass from the frame, Charlotte crawled out the window and perched on the porch roof beneath her. But that was as far as she could get. The turrets next to her were too steep to try and climb down. She would simply slide down to the pavement below.
Below, sirens sounded in the distance, the subtle red flashing of lights just visible past the neighboring houses. All she had to do was hold on and someone would arrive soon. Behind her, the fire crackled, enveloping her bedroom faster than she thought possible. The flames jumped and danced closer and closer to the oxygen feeding its destruction. She tried to inch away from the opening, but the roof was barely wider than the window itself.
“Charlotte!” Trey’s voice bellowed up from the sidewalk below.
Relief swamped Charlotte’s system until she slumped against the wall behind her.
Beneath her, the scene exploded in activity. Fire trucks screeched up to a stop on the street. Men ran, pulling hoses and ladders, Trey helping despite not being outfitted in his gear. The heat grew behind her, great radiating waves of blistering air washing over her skin and making her whimper in pain. Through it all, she kept her eyes glued to Trey.
A ladder banged against the house a foot from where she clung, shortly followed by Trey clambering up the rungs, despite shouted protests from the men swarming the street below. As soon as he reached her, he reached out, wrapping his arm around her waist and lifting her onto the ladder in front of him like she weighed nothing.
“I’ve got you, Char. I’ve got you.” The low voice she’d become so familiar with during their time together broke something free inside Charlotte’s chest. Great wracking sobs shook her body. “It’s okay. We are going to climb down this ladder and get you checked out. Okay?”
Charlotte nodded, the burning in her throat from both the smoke and her emotions preventing any words from coming out.
“You got Weasley in here?” Trey poked the back still slung over her shoulder, and the very angry cat hissed. Slowly, with one of his hands on her hip, the other holding the ladder, Trey guided Charlotte down to the ground. To safety.
Paramedics swarmed her, hooking oxygen to her face, inspecting and cleaning a few minor burns on her arms. One unfortunate man tried to give oxygen to Weasley, and got three angry scratches down his arm for the trouble.
Trey never left her side. They sat together on the gurney, watching as the building Charlotte had lived in since college burned to nothing but an empty shell. Her neighbors were all accounted for, and she said a silent thank you to whatever greater force out there might be listening.
“Ma’am, we need to take you to the hospital for treatment.”
Charlotte shook her head, pulling the blanket that had appeared over her shoulders tighter to her neck. “No, I’m fine.”
The completely engulfed structure before them had become almost unrecognizable. Yet Charlotte couldn’t stop staring at it. Part of her could even see the beauty in the flames, the swift efficiency it had used to completely level the old house.
“Is this what it feels like for her? This awe. Is this why she likes fire?” She got it. For a moment Charlotte understood why the troubled girl would find solace in such a destructive force. It didn’t discriminate. Didn’t listen to reason. To fire, everything was equal. Everything was fuel for its mission.
“I don’t know, Char. I don't think she even knows.” Trey buried his face in the crook of her neck, kissing the sensitive skin there. “I almost lost you. All I know is I’m never letting anything like this happen to you again.”
His words warmed her, thawed some of the shock she had slipped into. A warm, wet tear dropped onto her collarbone, and she stroked his shoulder, comforting him and herself.
All around people stood behind barricades and police tape, watching as the events unfolded. Firefighters milled about, no longer trying to save the building, but trying to ensure the fire didn’t spread and that it safely burned out.
Somehow a teenager had slipped through the security line, and stared at the flames, his back to them. Somewhere in the back of her overtaxed brain recognition pinged.
The teen turned, only it wasn’t a teen, but a slight woman in her early twenties. Expression flat, eyes lifeless, Charlotte knew immediately this was Trudy.
