Chapter one: Burnt

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     Our mother had put us to bed nearly an hour ago, so I didn't understand why she was telling us to get out of bed in such a panic. Weren't we supposed to be sleeping? It clearly wasn't morning considering she was still in her night clothes and it was dark out, although the golden flickering glow coming from the hallway was telling me otherwise.

   
      She yanked me and my brother, Adam, out of bed and held us tight to her chest as she ran down the stairs, her breath heavy and shaking. The house was hot, bright, and full of tragedy, the burning embers of precious family treasures falling on our bare arms.

     When we got to the front door, it was engulfed in the flames. "Okay, Gretchen, Adam, I need you to do something," our mother said with trembling fear in her voice. "I need you to crawl through the window. It's going to be scary and it's going to be hot, but you need to do it, okay?" She told us. Her face wet with tears, she put us down and grabbed the nearest object, a worn baseball, and threw it at the frosted window beside the door, flames growing with the newfound oxygen source. She picked Adam up first, "I love you so much, Adam," she told him before giving him a quick hug, then fed him through the window which was just barely big enough to fit his five-year-old body. After a light thud was heard on the other side, she picked me up.

     "I love you, my Gretchy girl, take care of your brother for me," She said, tears dripping down her face. She continued to lift me up and push me out the small window, bits of glass cutting my stomach and the walls burning my sides.

     I fell to the ground and heard coughing from inside. It was our mother, gasping for air, and she struggled to squeeze herself through the same window Adam and I had barely fit through. She grew weaker by the second and collapsed, leaving only her arm visible to us, resting limply out of the shattered window. Adam screamed desperately, clutching onto mom's arm and pulling it, but fell to the ground once flames viciously escaped the window, grabbing ahold of our mother's arm and eating it like wicked termites.

     A few moments later, big red trucks came, and people in jackets flooded out holding hoses. One of them picked us up and brought us to a white van filled with medical equipment. Adam was still bawling, but I felt nothing.

     "Are you guys alright?" The woman who saved us asked. Adam continued to cry, but I nodded, simply holding my scratches and burns from the window. They hurt, I hope she has bandages.

     "Mommy, Mommy!" My brother cried, though I didn't understand, for why would someone cry over another?
    


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