It was everywhere. Everywhere Seth turned the memory of that fateful night four years ago reared it's ugly head and loosened his fragile grip on sanity. Even when he closed his eyes the memory wouldn't leave him alone. The smell was there. The fumes tightened their grip around his lungs,leaving him gasping for air; the taste of smoke ever-present on his lips. Of course it wasn't there. There was no smoke, no deadly fumes. Not anymore.
But he would always see the flames.
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Seth saw it first. The orange glow flickering off the computer screen mesmorized his sleepy mind. His mind was calm, and tired from another day of anticipation; anticipation of the end of the the day, the end of the year,
the end of the torture and mockery he had become accustomed to throughout his twelve years of life. Slowly, he realized.
Fire.
The house was onfire. He jolted awake. How could I have been so stupid? How could I not realize that the house was on fire? Momentarily pausing his guilty thoughts, he scrambled out of bed. What do I do now? Call 911? What if Mom and Dad already called? He stopped. Mom and Dad. Do they know the house is on fire? He ran for the door, his mind registering the thick smoke and it's hold on his lungs. He grabbed the doorknob, and was instantly impacted by a scolding spasm of pain.
Too late
He looked at his hand and saw the blisters forming already, blood flowing from a particularly extreme burn.
The fire has already taken over
His panic soon overpowered the pain as he realized. The rest of the house was on fire. The rest of the house was gone.
Mom.
Dad.
He had to get out. He sprinted across the room and opened the window with both hands, slashing the wounds on his hands. He didn't notice. The only thing present in his mind was the dark outline of the trees below his window. he quickly slipped out of the window and onto the first available branch. It was amazing how capable he became when strength was his only option. He slid onto the ground and was just as soon running towards the front door.
He quickly stopped himself. The house was completely engulfed in flames, barely recognizable even to him. He didn't care. Along with his new-found strength came a complete disregard of logic.
He stumbled up the driveway and, remembering his previous run-in with a doorknob, kicked the door until it gave way. It didn't take much strength. The house was crumbling to pieces. Once inside, he was overwhelmed by the lack of oxygen. He pulled his undershirt over his mouth and began searching through the flames for an expanse of existing wall. There was none.
But soon he found a space between the flames. He ran through and found himself outside his parent's room. He opened the door. They weren't there. Maybe they were fine. Undisturbed. Maybe they were calling 911. But then he heard something. A faint murmur of a recognizable voice. He lept towards the sound of hope. Opening the closet door, he saw them.
Mom.
Dad.
Burned alive.