This is Not a Chapter:
The Survivors
This little intermission is not a chapter; it's only a small story of what happened after the fire of the hotel.
When people say they have been on "living hell" it does not mean they have been on the real hell but it means they have been in an extremely hot place or in a complete wreck of a situation. In this case, "living hell" means both cases.
"This was a living hell," Jerome Squalor cried in his hoarse voice as he came out of the burnt down building. His face and body were covered in ashes and rubble from the hotel. He crawled out of the building as he breathed heavily. He looked around, nobody was around. "Justice Strauss! Esmé! Children! Mr. Poe!" he cried.
"Jerome! Help!" cried a woman from underneath a table. Jerome ran towards the table and lifted it up. Esmé was underneath the table.
"Thank you. Where's Carmelita?" she asked. Jerome stared at her harshly.
"Who's Carmelita?" he replied.
"The little spoiled girl." She answered.
"I'm really sorry, Esmé. She…she died in the fire. A lamp fell down and crushed her head." Jerome said; his voice was squabbling. Esmé burst out into tears and fell on Jerome's shoulder. Jerome pushed her back.
"Esmé, it's not in to cry. It's out." he said. Esmé gave a sharp look at him.
"I don't care in what's in or not, just hold me!" she cried. Jerome and Esmé were standing in front of the hotel that was now destroyed. That was the last sad and unfortunate moment they would have in their lives, for now.