Prologue

My lungs hurt. Each drawn breath feels like thousands of tiny shards of glass in my lungs and throat. From under my bed, I watch with terrified eyes as the billowing clouds of black smoke fill my room. The flames catch on everything. Melting the stained carpet and anything else in its wake.

My tiny basket of secondhand toys.

My favorite picture book.

My only teddy bear.

I watch in silence as my heart beats rapidly in my chest. The heat hurts, and the closer the fire gets, the more it burns. Using the sleeve of my pajamas, I cough into the crook of my arm to muffle the sound. Even breathing hurts, but I don't make a single sound. Hidden under my bed, I lay there, and I wait in silence. I wait for the flames to come for me, to melt me like it is melting my things. Because that fate is better than the one that will come if I make a single noise. I know no one is coming for me. Mama wouldn't bother. Me melting like my toys would just mean one less mouth to feed. One more dose of her addiction. She's probably already outside, watching as the house burns down. Silently celebrating the freedom she will be granted without me. Would she even try to seek help? Would she even miss me?

No. I know she wouldn't.

The flames flicker closer, spreading along the carpeted floor until they catch on the blanket that hangs off the side of my bed. I push myself as far back as I can, till my bare feet are pressed firmly against the wall. The flames spread quickly, inching closer and closer until I am trapped, unable to escape their heat. The burn from the flames against my face stings, and the smell of my own flesh burning hits my nose. I hiss, and scoot away, trying to avoid the flames. My vision begins to turn fuzzy, and my eyes begin to grow heavy. What's happening? Is this the end?

Laying my hands flat on the carpet, I rest my head on them. The burnt flesh on the side of my face stings with the contact, but I'm too tired to care about the pain. There is a loud bang, followed by parts of the ceiling as it collapses to the floor in front of my bed. Someone enters the room, kicking my melted basket of toys to the side with their large boots. The flames are everywhere around me, and the smoke is so thick it burns my eyes. Slowly, I lift my head, bringing my mouth to my sleeve again to cough. Pain radiates through my chest, and the room seems to spin. A voice I don't recognize shouts my name. But momma doesn't use my name. Neither does the man.

Dreaming. I must be dreaming.

A hand wraps around my ankle and begins to pull. No. No, please. I silently beg. I try to fight; I try to free myself from their grasp. But it's no use. I'm too weak. Two large arms wrap around me, lifting me above the flames as they carry me from the burning house. I watch with burning eyes as we pass by familiar rooms. The small bathroom with the moldy grout. The cluttered kitchen is full of take-out garbage. Momma's bedroom, all completely engulfed by the fire. The strong arms carry me outside of the house and into the cool night air.

So many bright lights. Blues and reds. All coming from big trucks like the tiny toy cars I play with in my classroom. People are running about. Neighbors lined up on the sidewalk to watch. Turning my head towards the house. It"s the only house I've ever lived in. The stiff yellow grass that momma would let me play on if I was good, is littered with garbage but it's the large white sheet that lays across the yard, clearly hiding something very large that seems to draw my attention.

"I found him, he needs medical attention, now!" the voice behind the strong arms shouts. Turning my gaze up, I'm met with a large black helmet with a glass shield. I can't make out the face behind the fog, and the more I try, the more my eyes burn. "At least third-degree burns on the majority of his body Katherine. Get him there fast, kid didn't deserve this." He adds as he hands me off to a woman. She's pretty. Her face is full and colorful, not like momma.

"I got you buddy. You're going to be okay now." She explains softly as she places me on a big white bed on wheels. "I don't want you to talk, but I need to know if you can understand me. Nod your head yes if you can," I nod. Suddenly feeling afraid. Where is momma? Surely, she will be angry with me for being found the way I was. I don't want the man to hit me again. "Good, okay. Listen, Miss Campell called us. Your neighbour. She explained your situation to us okay? I know you're scared, but you're safe now, okay? No one will hurt you. Not ever again." What does she mean? How did Miss Campbell know? I watch as she unpacks stuff from a big red bag, and brings something to my nose.

"This will help with the pain, okay buddy?" she explains. I nod, and allow her to stick the nozzle in my nose. Cool liquid shoots up my nostril. The feeling makes my eyes water, and tears leak down my cheeks.

"Where- where is momma?" I choke out. The woman sighs, lifting her eyes to mine. I watch as she slowly pours a clear liquid over my wounds. It stings and I want to pull away. To hide. But I don't. I've learnt that hiding, fighting, always makes it worse.

"Your mother is dead. She and you're dad, well..." She pauses, clearly distraught. The man isn't my father, but it makes sense she assumed he is. "Your dad took off, but there are people out looking for him, okay? They will find him. I'm sorry." She explains as she pushes me to lay back on the bed. Dead. Momma is dead. Everything begins to numb. I pull my eyes from the woman's, scanning the chaos around us. The woman puts a mask over my nose and mouth that pumps fresh air into me. It hurts. Every breath is painful, but the fresh air helps. I lay there, replaying her words in my head on repeat. Momma is dead, and the man is gone. They can't hurt me. I won't be in trouble.

I'm too weak to keep my eyes open any longer, and for the first time, I feel safe. So, I give in to the temptation that pulls. I relinquish my will to fight because I'm tired of fighting. I let them flutter closed, and everything goes black.