The next time, I threw as much weight as I could against it, but again, I couldn’t break that crossbar.
“What are you doing?” a woman yelled at me.
“Breaking out!” I screamed, waving them over so similar to how my father had. “Help me!”
More children were crying. Some parents clutched them close while others just stared at the fire, transfixed by the flames.
“We can’t!” another woman cried out. “We have to go with the Divine!”
“You go ahead with the Divine then,” I said, staring at her like she’d lost her damn mind. “Some of us don’t want to do that.”
“But you’ll burn in hell.”
I motioned toward the fire around us, hearing more people cough at the smoke. “We’re burning right now!”
I slammed my shoulder into the door again, and this time, I felt a slight budge. Something had cracked in it.
Looking over my shoulder, I noticed the flames coming closer.
I wouldn’t die here. Wouldn’t die for him. Wouldn’t let these people die for him.
My father might’ve been okay with these people’s blood on his hands, but I wasn’t.
More people struggled to breathe as the temperature spiked. The smoke made some of them realize they weren’t ready to die for my father.
I coughed as I kept fighting the door until, finally, two teen boys grabbed a pew that hadn’t caught fire yet.
“Here! Come help!” they called out to me.
I nearly tripped over my feet as I ran toward them.
Two more men helped us. When one follower tried to fight them, saying they were turning their backs on the Divine, another punched him in the face.
From behind me, I heard one follower whisper to another, asking why my father hadn’t left his office when hearing this commotion.
“It’s because he’s probably not in there!” I screamed.
“Liar!” a man shrieked.
“Walk through the flames and check yourself, then!” I yelled back, refusing to give him any more attention because I needed to get us the hell out of here.
I ignored their fighting, ignored those pleading with me not to ruin what was right, while we kept ramming the pew against the door.
Splinters of wood came off, and we didn’t stop until two boards busted open.
We kicked the weak boards down, creating enough space for us to escape the chapel. Smoke burned my lungs with every move, but I never gave up.
I grabbed the boy’s and girl’s hands, whose father had called me a liar, and ran out with them. The teen boys did the same, each grabbing the remaining children, even when their parents tried to pull them back into the burning building.
“Mama!” the little girl I pulled out wailed, trying to run back into the chapel, but I wouldn’t allow it.
I hugged them tight, watching and smelling the fire take over the building with the people my father had betrayed.
And from the corner of my eye, while I held the crying children, I saw my parents running across the field.
My words were said through broken sobs, and by the time I was finished telling Enzo about the fire, his chest was soaked as he held me close. He stroked my shoulder, my back, my neck, all in an effort to comfort me as I broke down in his arms.
I’d only told the story two other times.
