My head bumped something solid. I gasped, and then coughed so hard my stomach ached.
I lifted my arm and pressed it to the solid object in front of me.
A wall. I had hit a fucking wall.
I tried to open my eyes, but the smoke was too much. It was like someone had splashed them with alcohol, and I couldn’t see through the darkness anyway.
There shouldn’t be a wall here. I shifted closer to it, but it was burning. Heat rolled from it in waves so intense I had no idea how it wasn’t up in flames. Despite that, I kept my forearm against it, feeling for any sign of the door to the stairwell.
I crawled along the wall. My arm burned, but I couldn’t stop. Ihadto find the door.
My lungs burned too. Aching for air instead of the toxic cloud forcing itself down my throat.
My knees were on fire. My shorts gave no protection against the scorching floor.
It wasn’t until the first wave of dizziness hit me that I froze.
I had no idea how long I’d been crawling through the hall, but it felt like an age. The wall was still solid at my side, no sign of the door.
My insides were raw as I fought for another breath.
It was too late to go back to my room. Even though I would’ve been trapped, the thought of clean air through that window sounded so much better than this.
I had no idea where I was.
The truth draped itself over me like a heavy blanket of dread.
I couldn’t see. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t even breathe. I was pretty sure my skin was burning and there was nothing,nothingI could do about it.
I’d made a mistake.
It was so clear to me now how direly I had messed up.
I slid down, my arms no longer able to support me. The scalding floor greeted me, and I turned on my side, tucking my hands protectively under my armpits even though it was pointless.
There was a good chance I was going to die.
This wasn’t the first time I’d thought about dying, but it was the first time I had no control over it. There was literally nothing I could do.
An unnerving feeling of acceptance trickled over me. Or maybe it was the consciousness slipping away. I wasn’t as scared as I’d thought I’d be.
Maybe it was for the best.
I struggled for another lungful, barely able to inhale through the fumes and the heat.
My mind had started to drift away when I heard it. It was something that I recognized.
Another voice.
I thought it might be in my head at first—my brain misfiring as it shut itself down—but then something touched me.
A hand.
I flinched weakly, a broken sound leaving my throat as pressure closed around my arm. The voice came again, closer this time. It was distorted and muffled, like coming from behind something thick and heavy.
I couldn’t understand the words at first, just the shape of them. Reassurance was threaded through the sound.
My eyelids fluttered open.
