The Fire
“Contessa!” My mom’s voice screams from somewhere far away. My bedroom ceiling slowly comes into view as my eyes flutter open. Paleness and panic cover my mom’s face as she gazes down at me, tears dripping from her chin. She shakes me hard as my eyes drift closed and my heart begins to pound. “Open your eyes, baby. Stay awake.”
A dark figure towers behind her, and I can barely make out my dad’s voice. “Tessa, were you in the house?” he yells over Mom’s shoulder.
The house? Whose house, I wonder?
Mom’s talking again, this time to him, but their words are garbling together, making them incomprehensible.
I cry out as burning pain spreads through every inch of my naked body. A blanket floats over me, and my father’s face hovers inches from mine. “I’m going to pick you up. The ambulance will be here any minute.”
Ambulance?
My body leaves the floor, and a tremendous amount of pain pierces my skin. The torment continues as my dad races down the stairs of our house, bouncing me around in a panicked state. My eyes roll back, vaguely registering the red and blue lights flashing outside as we emerge on the front lawn.
A gurney bangs to the pavement, unloaded by a paramedic who rushes toward us and reaches under my dad’s arms, helping him place me gently on the gurney. “Did she come from the house?” the paramedic asks.
“I think so,” my dad says, combing through my hair with his fingers. “Can I ride with her?”
“Of course.”
When we reach the ambulance, they wheel me to the side to load me into the back. That’s when I seethe house.
It’s far down the street, just past the corner, but not too far for me to know whose it is.
Jayce’s.
Fire rages through the attic, practically licking the full moon in the sky, and black smoke roars in angry tufts around the entire structure as firefighters work frantically to douse the flames.
The paramedic shoves the gurney through the ambulance’s back doors, jerking me harshly inside. I wince, and a sob breaks free as a fresh wave of pain overwhelms me, threatening to pull me back under.
I grip my dad’s hand and mutter one word through trembling lips. “Jayce?”
He kisses the back of my hand, wet tears streaming over my fingers, and whispers, “I don’t know, baby.”
???
I cringe as the gurney bounces out of the ambulance. My dad takes my hand and runs beside us as the double doors of the ambulance bay groan open. The fluorescent lights above me sting my eyes, and I pinch them closed. I roll into a sterile-looking room and am quickly surrounded by unfamiliar faces, my dad fading into the background. I grip the blanket covering me tight between my fingers, not wanting anyone to see.
“Let it go,” a nurse wearing a blue mask says kindly. “We have to see everything to treat you.” I peer over her shoulder at my dad, biting his nails in the corner. “Where’s mom?”
He drops his thumb away from his lips and says, “She’ll be here any minute.”
Another nurse gestures for my dad to step behind the white curtain to give me privacy. It’s not just his presence that makes me uncomfortable; it’s all of them.
I don’t want any of them to see.
A bright light flashes into my eyes, and a masked woman wearing a white lab coat curls her fingers around the blanket covering me. “We’ll get you a fresh blanket. This one’s covered in dog hair and can get in your wounds.”
I gaze down at the blanket that was at the end of my bed. It’s coated with a layer of Boozer’s hair, and now so am I. I release the blanket from my grasp, and they fold it away from my upper body and legs until I’m completely exposed.
Everyone’s eyes widen before they take turns exchanging glances of confusion. A cold stethoscope lands on my chest, and the doctor clears her throat before saying, “My name is Dr. Francis. Can you take a deep breath for me?”
I’m not sure how she could hear my breathing over my pounding heart. She continues moving the stethoscope around my chest, listening intently. “Lungs sound clear.”
Sweat pools behind my spine, the heat from my skin making it hard to stay cool. I feel like I spent hours at the beach without sunscreen. I shift uncomfortably on the stiff mattress. A nurse gently lifts my leg, and I cry out, my body screaming in pain. She freezes, letting the initial shock of pain wear off before continuing to lift them one at a time, examining the gash across my calf that Mastyx’s tail caused. She nudges the doctor with her elbow. “This one’s a second-degree burn.” She points to myhips, ankles, and other parts of my body. “The others are all first degree.”
“Are those handprints?” The doctor’s voice muffles through her mask.
