There are screams outside. Distant. Distorted.
When the cold air hits my face, I start coughing again, harder this time. My throat is raw, every breath clawing against smoke. My eyes sting between the blur of tears and haze; all I see are flashes of red and blue.
“She’s having trouble breathing, but no burns,” a man says as he lowers me onto something cold and hard.
“Hi, honey. Can you tell me your name?”
A woman’s voice echoes; it’s soft and steady. She’s touching my face, my arms, checking me.
“A-Autumn,” I whisper, trying not to cough.
She places an oxygen mask over my mouth. It feels too tight at first, the air strange and stiff in my lungs.
“Breathe slowly, Autumn. Can you look at me?”
I nod and lift my gaze. Her green eyes find mine, kind and focused, and for a second, I see his instead. Flynn. That intense stare. That rough voice in the dark.
God, I wish he were here. He and Viviana.
“We’re taking you to the hospital,” the woman calls out, louder now, her voice echoing around me. I hear others too—shouts, orders—-but I can’t make out the words.
My body trembles as I’m lifted into the ambulance. She climbs in beside me, her hand warm around my arm.
“You’ll feel a pinch,” she warns gently.
The shakes get worse. My legs, my hands—I can’t stop any of it.
“I can’t—” My voice cracks, tears spilling down my cheeks. “I can’t stop shaking.”
“I know, sweetheart. Just breathe. You’re in shock, but you’re safe now.”
She slides the IV into my arm, stroking my forehead as she speaks, her voice low and rhythmic. Telling me everything she’s doing like it’s a lullaby. Slowly, the tremors ease. Not gone, but less brutal.
The ambulance stops. Doors swing open. Rain hits like needles. Cold wind slices through the heat left in my skin.
They pull me out, and she’s talking again, telling them my name, what happened, but her words fade. Everything fades. My mind’s full of smoke and static.
A man walks alongside the gurney as they rush me inside. “Is there anyone we can call, Autumn?”
I shake my head, then pause.
“Viviana,” I say. “But I don’t have her number.”
He glances down at me, then at the doctor. “What’s her last name?”
It takes me a second to remember it. “Callaghan.”
The man chuckles under his breath. “Callaghan? Don’t worry. Everyone knows the family.”
He steps back as the doctor leans in. My body starts shaking again.
“I’m going to give you something to help you calm down, alright?” he says with a soft smile. He’s older, in his sixties, maybe. Something about him reminds me of my father.
I miss them. My parents.
I couldn’t stay with them, not after what happened. It was too dangerous.
They tried to protect me, gave up everything for me. But he always finds me.
