HOME | DD

Description
We were together, Andrew and I, hand in hand, watching as the flames grew hotter, crept closer. We were huddled in that tiny, insignificant corner of the room. A corner I'd never even glanced at – I'd spent years in that house, but nothing had ever seemed significant about that small, safe place. I coughed loudly, feeling the thick smoke gather in my lungs, and felt the wetness of tears on my cheeks dry in the heat from the fire.
"I'm scared, I'm scared," I'm ashamed of that whimper now, ashamed of the way I'd huddled closer into his chest. He must have been scared too. We were trapped, there was no way out. There was fire all around us, the heat was becoming unbearable as it came ever closer, the window was just on the other side of the room, but it might as well have been miles away. The door was shivering with the force of the inferno – no hope there.
But, there was one source of hope – the sounds of arriving police cars and fire engines – the loud, blaring horns that announced our potential rescue. But every time I averted my eyes from the fire, I knew. A part of me, deep down, knew it was impossible. It was too late.
We were there for what seemed an eternity. I was staring at him, hoping to see some chance, some hope of life in his eyes. But they were dark, the skin around them tight and strained. His hand on my wrist was painfully hard.
"I love you Eve," he said.
I licked my lips, and nodded, feeling fresh tears on my cheeks.
"I love you too." I wrapped my arms around him, as best I could in that ever tightening space as we flinched back from the flames. I didn't want to let go. Ever.
The fire had started maybe forty minutes ago. We'd let the fire in the hearth settle down, as usual, when we went upstairs to sleep. I couldn't know how it had happened, but it must have been that. A flying ember hitting the curtain, or the couch – those first few painful moments as the smoke must have curled upwards, thick and black… The first flickers of fire…

My eyes flickered open at the sound of shouting – somebody was close, somebody else. Rescue? I wasn't sure, I felt dazed, heavy headed. The smoke? I looked at Andrew, but he wasn't looking at me. He was looking up, through the blaze. I followed his line of sight, and choked at the sight of a dark figure, approaching us in his huge yellow fireman's armour. How had he made it to us? Impossible. We were lost, we were going to die. Was this death?
He was upon us in moments, offering a hand down. Andrew heaved me up – I hadn't realised I'd collapsed. The fireman picked me up, and a heavy, strange smelling blanket, blessedly cold, was dropped over me. I gasped, panicking, and the sudden movement of air was enough to make my head spin.
"Andrew!"
I felt his hot hand on mine, under the blanket, just for a moment, and then it was gone.

We emerged from the ruins of the house, myself coughing, the fireman struggling to clamber over the last fallen piece of our old wooden door, still smouldering.
As he set me down on a pallet, he disappeared again, and anxious faces surrounded me. Unfamiliar, strange faces. For a moment, I felt a flash of victory. I had defeated death. I had been lost, absolutely lost – had almost readied myself for it. But here I was, living, breathing, safe even! I was safe. I had won.
I smiled at the faces around me, grinning with near ecstasy.
"We're fine, we're going to be okay!" They looked at me blankly, and I shook my head. "I was sure… I was so sure…"
I coughed suddenly, and put a hand to my chest. Almost immediately a strange plastic object was placed over my mouth – I breathed in, and oxygen filled my lungs. The burning in my throat from the smoke was painful, but I was too delirious with joy to take note of it.
I put a hand to the plastic object, and lifted it off. "Is Andrew here yet? Is he here? Safe with me?"
A silence ensued, and it was then, right then, that I realised. Maybe the rescue had been too late.
"Where is he?" I coughed, and gentle hands pushed the object back over my mouth. I resisted, pushing it away, but my muscles were suddenly leaden. I think it was more out of sympathy that they held back. I struggled to sit up, and one of them helped me, putting an arm around my shoulder.
"Where is he?" I felt tears begin anew, and bit my lip. No one answered, because even as I said it, I saw the still figure on a pallet a few feet away being loaded into the back of an ambulance, the medics around him moving with a strange kind of urgency. I don't know when he got there, but there he was. And he wasn't moving. His chest wasn't moving.
"NO!" I was screaming now, shaking with fear. I struggled from the pallet, finding a sudden strength as I realised he needed me. I stood up, and stumbled to him, climbing into the ambulance with him. His eyes were closed. "Andrew!" I shook him, angry as I dug my nails into the skin of his limp forearm. I looked up at the medic straddled across his chest, trying to resuscitate him with CPR. I glanced back at Andrew's face as the ambulance doors were closed behind me, and waited for the signs of life that I still hoped would return.
Every time he moved with the medics attempt to force his heart to beat, I felt a flicker of hope. But as each following rescue breath failed to have an effect, I felt emotion begin to drain away. A protection mechanism; my mind struggling to keep itself in working order. I knew what was happening, what had happened.
He was dead, and I was alive. I'd gone first, so he'd stayed behind to die. He was dead.
I fell back into the low bench inside the ambulance, felt the rumble of tires beneath me as it raced for the hospital.
He was gone.

Description
We were together, Andrew and I, hand in hand, watching as the flames grew hotter, crept closer. We were huddled in that tiny, insignificant corner of the room. A corner I'd never even glanced at – I'd spent years in that house, but nothing had ever seemed significant about that small, safe place. I coughed loudly, feeling the thick smoke gather in my lungs, and felt the wetness of tears on my cheeks dry in the heat from the fire.
"I'm scared, I'm scared," I'm ashamed of that whimper now, ashamed of the way I'd huddled closer into his chest. He must have been scared too. We were trapped, there was no way out. There was fire all around us, the heat was becoming unbearable as it came ever closer, the window was just on the other side of the room, but it might as well have been miles away. The door was shivering with the force of the inferno – no hope there.
But, there was one source of hope – the sounds of arriving police cars and fire engines – the loud, blaring horns that announced our potential rescue. But every time I averted my eyes from the fire, I knew. A part of me, deep down, knew it was impossible. It was too late.
We were there for what seemed an eternity. I was staring at him, hoping to see some chance, some hope of life in his eyes. But they were dark, the skin around them tight and strained. His hand on my wrist was painfully hard.
"I love you Eve," he said.
I licked my lips, and nodded, feeling fresh tears on my cheeks.
"I love you too." I wrapped my arms around him, as best I could in that ever tightening space as we flinched back from the flames. I didn't want to let go. Ever.
The fire had started maybe forty minutes ago. We'd let the fire in the hearth settle down, as usual, when we went upstairs to sleep. I couldn't know how it had happened, but it must have been that. A flying ember hitting the curtain, or the couch – those first few painful moments as the smoke must have curled upwards, thick and black… The first flickers of fire…

My eyes flickered open at the sound of shouting – somebody was close, somebody else. Rescue? I wasn't sure, I felt dazed, heavy headed. The smoke? I looked at Andrew, but he wasn't looking at me. He was looking up, through the blaze. I followed his line of sight, and choked at the sight of a dark figure, approaching us in his huge yellow fireman's armour. How had he made it to us? Impossible. We were lost, we were going to die. Was this death?
He was upon us in moments, offering a hand down. Andrew heaved me up – I hadn't realised I'd collapsed. The fireman picked me up, and a heavy, strange smelling blanket, blessedly cold, was dropped over me. I gasped, panicking, and the sudden movement of air was enough to make my head spin.
"Andrew!"
I felt his hot hand on mine, under the blanket, just for a moment, and then it was gone.

We emerged from the ruins of the house, myself coughing, the fireman struggling to clamber over the last fallen piece of our old wooden door, still smouldering.
As he set me down on a pallet, he disappeared again, and anxious faces surrounded me. Unfamiliar, strange faces. For a moment, I felt a flash of victory. I had defeated death. I had been lost, absolutely lost – had almost readied myself for it. But here I was, living, breathing, safe even! I was safe. I had won.
I smiled at the faces around me, grinning with near ecstasy.
"We're fine, we're going to be okay!" They looked at me blankly, and I shook my head. "I was sure… I was so sure…"
I coughed suddenly, and put a hand to my chest. Almost immediately a strange plastic object was placed over my mouth – I breathed in, and oxygen filled my lungs. The burning in my throat from the smoke was painful, but I was too delirious with joy to take note of it.
I put a hand to the plastic object, and lifted it off. "Is Andrew here yet? Is he here? Safe with me?"
A silence ensued, and it was then, right then, that I realised. Maybe the rescue had been too late.
"Where is he?" I coughed, and gentle hands pushed the object back over my mouth. I resisted, pushing it away, but my muscles were suddenly leaden. I think it was more out of sympathy that they held back. I struggled to sit up, and one of them helped me, putting an arm around my shoulder.
"Where is he?" I felt tears begin anew, and bit my lip. No one answered, because even as I said it, I saw the still figure on a pallet a few feet away being loaded into the back of an ambulance, the medics around him moving with a strange kind of urgency. I don't know when he got there, but there he was. And he wasn't moving. His chest wasn't moving.
"NO!" I was screaming now, shaking with fear. I struggled from the pallet, finding a sudden strength as I realised he needed me. I stood up, and stumbled to him, climbing into the ambulance with him. His eyes were closed. "Andrew!" I shook him, angry as I dug my nails into the skin of his limp forearm. I looked up at the medic straddled across his chest, trying to resuscitate him with CPR. I glanced back at Andrew's face as the ambulance doors were closed behind me, and waited for the signs of life that I still hoped would return.
Every time he moved with the medics attempt to force his heart to beat, I felt a flicker of hope. But as each following rescue breath failed to have an effect, I felt emotion begin to drain away. A protection mechanism; my mind struggling to keep itself in working order. I knew what was happening, what had happened.
He was dead, and I was alive. I'd gone first, so he'd stayed behind to die. He was dead.
I fell back into the low bench inside the ambulance, felt the rumble of tires beneath me as it raced for the hospital.
He was gone.