LUCY
Smoke. Do I smell smoke?
I emerged from sleep slowly, nostrils flaring. Now that the indicator light was orange, the protective suit was slowly decreasing the filtration level, along with the supplemental oxygen. And I was sure—very sure—that I smelled something burning.
When I parted my lashes, confusion washed over me. I expected the room to be dark; it was the middle of the night. Instead, there was a strange, yellow-tinted haze. Heat was building in the suit, sweat beading down my back. I blinked several times, hoping that I was still dreaming. But no matter how many times I opened and closed my eyes, the haze didn’t clear. In fact, it grew thicker.
Fire.
Something was on fire in the room!
Pulse pounding, I pushed myself upright, now fully awake. It took me seconds to realize I was trapped. Flames licked hungrily at the mattress beneath me. Fear gripped my heart like a vice.I refuse to die this way!My brain screamed.I didn’t survive those vein-scorching treatments so I could burn to death!
Earlier today, I’d been so excited when the indicator light changed to orange. I’d praised myself for being stronger than anyone, including myself, realized. Now, I wondered if my acclimating fast was some kind of cosmic cruel joke, allowing me to fully experience how it smelled to die. Though, if the suit had been filtering at the red level, would I have woken up in time?
In time for what! My demise!
I squinted, as if that would help me see through the visor. The building flames danced shadows through the thick smoke. Shifting, I crawled forward, only to reel back when the heat got so intense I thought the suit might melt.
“Help!” I shouted. “Is anyone there! Please, help!”
I started coughing after the second help. Smacking my chest, I tried to clear my lungs, then I frantically waved my arms in the air like I could put the fire out by flailing. My body was still sore from moving the mattress, but I ignored the ache. I flapped my stupid hands through the air like small fans for as long as I could. After giving up the futile effort, I took a shuddering breath. If not for the supplemental oxygen, I’d be worse off right now. But that wouldn’t save me.
“Help! Somebody, help!” Again, I screamed. “Please!” That please was a prayer.
I wasn’t sure why, but the suffocating haze seemed to thin, letting me see past the inferno creeping ever closer to my body.
Beyond the flames, something shifted. Low to the floor. Wide. Watching.
Eyes narrowing, I pushed past my fear to focus with all my might. It took precious moments to make out the silhouette kneeling on the floor. A person. My breath hitched in horror. This fire…this fire hadn’t started on its own.
Asher. It had to be Asher lurking there, enjoying his handwork. He’d brandished his lighter at me. He’d wanted to see if my suit was fireproof. But… no sane person would dosomething like this. I had to still be asleep. This had to be a nightmare.
The encroaching, boiling heat begged to differ.
I screamed again, the sound jarring to my own ears. It seemed to echo inside the helmet this time, slamming against my temple repeatedly, making my brain ache.
The suit’s filtering hiccuped, letting in a wave of smoke. I hacked violently, my heartbeat a frantic rhythm in my ears. My panic surged as I pushed my back against the wall, desperately trying to distance myself from the flames.
So hot. So very hot.
“Asher! What are you doing?” I pushed out the questions through coughs, throat growing rawer with each syllable.
I struggled to push myself up. I needed to be further away. I needed to take up less space. After a fight, I managed to stand, body pressed flat against the wall. There was no more room for retreat.
“Asher! Do something! Please do something! Asher!” My voice fractured as I yelled his name. He’d said nothing. He’d made no indication that he even heard me.
“You're a fucking psycho!" I spat, adrenaline sharpening my voice. Anger and terror warred. I had no outlet for my rage. So, fear prevailed as I waited to literally get murdered by an Alpha who was supposed to be my forever.
I closed my eyes, unwilling to watch death come closer.
Weakly, I screamed for help again. I kept shouting, desperation clawing at every part of me. The heat surged closer and my legs grew so hot I wanted to cry. The suit seemed to shrink up, plastering against my sweat-soaked leggings beneath.
“Help… please… help.” My yells had faded to near whispers. The smoke in the helmet bit at my eyes, making them water. My breathing became shallow as my lungs struggled. I couldn’t think; everything was fuzzy.
These Alphas were right. I was pitiful. Weak. Fragile. Worthless.
But I’d be damned if I died in this stupid suit. I was strong enough to leave this world the way I wanted to—as my real self, not a patient.
