Chapter 21: Playing with Fire
'Playing with fire will only get you burnt', so the old saying goes. In the coldness and darkness of night, fire is there to make everything better. Since the dawn of time, fire has being both man's friend and foe: giving warmth but destroying his home without warning or reason. In the hands of wrongdoers, fire can hurt and fire can kill. The old phrase can also refer to an enemy, and some enemies should not be toyed with…
Charlene Gates had been burnt while playing with fire several times. As a child, her abusive alcoholic stepfather had beaten her when she broke her mother's favourite vase.
The same stepfather raped her when she had been flirting with a younger Matthew Bourne at her graduation party. When she gave birth to her stepfather's child, her family had disowned her, alone in the world with a baby girl.
When she had flirted with Matthew during his anniversary party several years ago, his newlywed wife had announced they were moving to Appleby Street. Charlene had followed, but playing with fire always got her burnt.
Nine months ago, she had baited her neighbour's husband and slept with him – but she had not become burnt by this incident. She thought her luck had finally changed, as she was rushed into labour.
As the stretcher was wheeled towards the Maternity ward, Charlene watched Matt's face swim before her – the comforting smile and warm eyes. She smiled at him and squeezed his hand. She was not going to be burnt this time.
---
"Emily?"
Emily looked up, with large black eyes – her mascara caked around her puffy red eyes. In the mirror on the wall, she saw Dylan in the doorway to her kitchen.
"Emily, why are you crying?" he asked, crossing the room and sitting beside her.
"I'm scared, Dylan." Emily said weakly. "I humiliated you in front of everyone. I can't face them anymore."
"Emily, let's leave this place behind," Dylan said, "Let's start a new life – one free of all our old ties."
"Dylan, can we?" Emily sounded doubtful.
"Yes," Dylan answered, moving a clump of straw-coloured hair out of Emily's eyes. "We can start again – be a proper family to little Jay. We do not have to get married if you do not want to. We will go somewhere were no one will find us. Free from our past." He paused, a glint of childlike excitement in his eye. "So, what do you say?"
Emily smiled. "I do." She said.
---
Ellie Jones was sat in her bathroom, sobbing softly. Her eyes were red and her perfect make-up was ruined. She was weeping for her betrayal – the ultimate betrayal of her husband.
"Mum?" Nadine's voice came from behind the bathroom door, sounding concerned for her mother.
"What is it sweetheart?" Ellie stammered. She got a tissue, dried her eyes, and blew her nose. The sound clearly disturbed her daughter, who asked:
"Is everything alright?"
"Its fine," Ellie lied as she turned on the tap and splashed water on her face, rinsing it clean of the ruined make-up. Ellie replied, dabbing her face with the towel. She looked into the mirror – she looked perfect, a mask hiding the tragic pain she felt. She reached for the door handle to let Nadine into the bathroom.
"Mum, where's Dad?" Nadine asked and Ellie froze. A thousand thoughts shot through her head, worry and panic blinding her senses.
"He's…" she knew there was no other way to tell her daughter this. She opened the door and looked her teenage daughter in the eye. "He's in prison,"
Nadine gave her mother a stern look, which reminded Ellie so much of Ben. "Why?"
"He tried to kill your aunt Maria." Ellie said, avoiding her daughter's eye.
Nadine looked at her mother in shock. "You shipped Dad in, didn't you?" she snapped.
"I had no choice." Ellie felt the tears in her eyes again. "I had to tell them the truth."
"You could have lied!" Nadine protested. "You can have pretended he hadn't!"
"I was too weak, Nadine, please – believe me." Ellie begged, but her daughter recoiled at her touch. "No, Nadine, please! You have to believe me! You are all I have left. I did not mean to hurt you. I loved him. He was my world. I was too weak!"
Nadine shook her head, the teenage girl with teary eyes – though her tears were filled with rage not sadness. Then, she uttered three words that struck Ellie like a bullet.
"I hate you."
Ellie's hands went to her breast, where her heart felt as if it had stopped. Her eyes were watery and she remained on her knees. "Nadine!" she cried, but Nadine did not listen, leaving her mother alone in the corridor, sobbing.
---
In Appleby Hospital, a startling revelation was about to be made.
The doctor, an elderly man in a white coat with a stethoscope around his neck was having a meeting with Collin, the private investigator of Maria Stone's case.
"I have the results," the doctor told the investigator. He was brandishing a sheet of paper, which Collin removed from the man's hand and began to skim read it. Meanwhile, Maria Stone slept on the bed near them, monitors measuring her vital statistics, her chest rising and falling steadily, as if she were asleep.
"As well as the trauma and paralysis, I've run some further tests on her to see if there is any other long term damage. I found something very interesting." Collin raised an eyebrow in interest.
"She has been diagnosed with schizophrenia and severe paranoia. Her statement against Mr. Jones is invalid because she is not of sound mind."
"So was she lying?" Collin asked.
"We can't tell." The doctor replied. "But what we can tell is that she'd be much better off in a home for the clinically insane."
"Damn," Collin's fist hit the table. "I was so sure I had Jones caught."
"You'd better release him," the doctor advised, but his voice weakened when he saw Collin pull out his gun.
"Or maybe I should just eliminate the evidence?" he said, and with a clean shot – the doctor fell dead with a hole in his head.
---
"Mum, why did they take Daddy away?" asked Mary.
Terri looked up from the toast she was buttering. "Daddy is just getting asked some questions by the police." She said calmly.
"He killed someone, kid."
Sophie Wilkinson had emerged from the Lounge and stood in the kitchen, looking malevolent. "He's going to prison for his crime." She continued.
"Sophie!" Terri's face was a mask of rage. "Do not lie to my children,"
"If you told them the truth, they wouldn't need me to 'lie' to them." Sophie retorted.
"Do not tell me how to raise my children," Terri snapped, absent-mindedly adding more butter to the already drenched slice.
"With the amnesia, I thought you needed some help." Sophie said with mock concern.
Terri's hand grasped the knife tightly. For several moments, she held it, considering the delicate shine of this blade. She finally released it and carried Stewart's toast to him. "Thank you Sophie," she said coldly.
---
"Why is Andrew in prison?" demanded Amy.
Alex lit up a cigarette. "Not your business to know," he said coolly.
"Yes it is," Amy said. "Emily said he was a murderer."
"Did she?" Alex said in mock surprise. "Well, gossip spreads fast."
"Is it true?" Amy demanded - her eyes teary. "Tell me Alex!" she cried.
Alex extinguished his cigarette and looked Amy in the eyes. "I won't lie to you. My brother has killed once before. He killed for her."
"Who?" Amy desperately asked.
Alex paused, looking deep into those ovals of watery blue. His face was set in a serious gaze, with a strong jaw. He saw past her strong resolute and understood her pain.
"Sophie Wilkinson."
---
Charlene came round slowly, taking in the details of the hospital room where she resided. The square window on her right allowed the afternoon light to illuminate the room with a vivid glow. The sheets were clean and freshly washed. Her eyes fell on the beside table's mirror, where she noticed how haggard she looked. A solitary figure sat at her side, cradling an armful of white cloth.
"Matt…" she groaned.
Zack woke up from his trance, looking at the woman. He looked exhausted, deep circles beneath his vivid blue eyes.
"Charlene…" his voice was soft, a bedside manner suitable for a dying person.
"Where is the baby?" she asked, now alert. She struggled to sit up, ignoring the agonizing pains in her stomach. "Where is my baby?"
Matt looked down forlornly at the bundle of cloth. Then, he stood up and passed her the bundle. "It's a girl." He mumbled.
It was quite heavy and, as the cloth fell away, a beautiful face came into sight – wispy blonde hair and a pale complexion. Something was wrong – the baby was cold and unmoving. Its tiny hands were icy to touch.
"Matt?" Charlene was confused, the medication still wearing off. "Matt, what's wrong with our child? Tell me what's wrong with her."
"She died, Charlene," his voice was softer now; Charlene was straining to hear it. "You gave birth to her but there were…complications."
"What do you mean?" Charlene looked down at the lifeless child – her lifeless child.
"The umbilical cord was tied around her neck. They had to perform a caesarean." He paused, now at the window, gazing out at the January afternoon. "She came out blue – breathing difficulties." There was another pause, more apprehensive. "She was only three minutes old."
For a moment, no one spoke. Then Charlene began to sob. Tears rolled down her face, smudging her make-up. They fell onto the lifeless baby but she did not stir.
"But it doesn't matter," Matt said, a hand caressing her cheek. "We'll try again,"
"She was my first child with you," Charlene blurted out, tears streaming down her face.
"What about Erin?" Matt asked, bemused.
The tears stopped. Charlene's breathing was heavy and uneven. Even in the face of her beloved rejecting her, Charlene was compelled to tell the truth. "She isn't yours. My stepfather raped me at my graduation party," she looked into his misty blue eyes. "I was three weeks pregnant when we slept together."
Matt paused, considering this new information. Then, he slapped her, his handprint visible on her pallid cheeks. "You lied to me," he said, angrier that she had ever seen him. "You betrayed me, Charlene. Why?"
"Because I love you!" Charlene cried. "I did it because I love you, Matthew, and nothing will ever change that!"
"You sick psycho," Matt said, his face transformed into a mask of repulsion. "Goodbye,"
Without another word, Matthew left the room, leaving Charlene alone with the dead child. She was alone once more.
---
Andrew and Brad sat alone in the police station, both cuffed to surly officers. Both were drinking deeply from mugs of coffee and chatting.
"Who'd you kill?" Brad said stiffly. Andrew did not respond, so he repeated the question. "I said, who did you kill?"
"You didn't know him," Andrew replied. "Why? Who did you murder?"
"Catherine," Brad said with a tinge of pride.
"Why?" Andrew quizzed.
"She asked for it," Brad said, before he felt the desire to confess. "She was bribing my wife. She knew that Sophie had survived the fire and was living with my sister-in-law."
"Sophie?" Andrew's eyebrows were raised at the mention of this name.
"Sophie is…or was my youngest daughter. We named her after her aunt. We thought she had died in a fire that destroyed our first house. However, she survived and went to live with Terri's sister. Her aunt kept her hidden from us but Catherine discovered her existence when she visited her sister in Pearview."
There was a pause between the two men. "Why did you kill, Andrew?" Brad asked.
Andrew thought long and hard, staring at the grimy floor of the police station. "I did it to protect your wife. My sister-in-law."
---
Matt was walking down Brooklyn Close when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. After the first ring, he answered it.
"Hello?" he asked, tentatively.
"Matthew, I think it's time you paid your bills." crooned a voice on the other end.
"Jacob?" Matt was speaking quietly, furtively glancing around. "I paid you last month. Wasn't that enough?"
"Not to fuel your addiction," Jacob responded. "So, since you've been avoiding paying your bills, we decided to do a little 'repossessing'." A wheezing cough followed, masking the sounds of screeching furniture and tearing of wallpaper.
"What?" Matt was walking faster, taking long strides out of the close and heading towards Appleby Street.
"Your house would look very nice without all this décor," Jacob said. "Doilies never suited you, anyway."
"Get out of my home!" Matt yelled, sprinting down the road to his house and rushing up the gravel, arriving at his front door. It was on its hinges. Inside, it was dark.
He hung up, taking a step inside. "Jacob?" he yelled, his voice echoing. Portraits hung unevenly on the wall, wallpaper ripped and vases shattered.
He took another step forward. "Jacob?" he yelled tentatively. Then, he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. With a pale hand, he touched the bleeding wound. He had been shot.
"I told you we were 'repossessing'." Jacob said, pressing a suede heel into Matt's neck. "Your wife will cough up the money once she realises we have you hostage."
Then it all went black for Matt.
---
Ben hammered on the door of the cell, kicking and punching feebly. He had not eaten the food they had provided, the cold bowl of porridge on the bedside table.
"Open the door!" he roared, his voice hoarse now. "Open up,"
He heard the guards chuckling as usual but no response. He kicking the steel again then went to sit on his bed, his head buried in his hands.
There was the sudden click of a lock and Ben looked up, to see Ellie stood in the doorway. She was pale, her eyes wide. She ran forward and threw her arms around Ben.
"Are you O.K.?" she asked, when she would finally released him. "Collin said something about you having a fit."
"What?" Ben said, before noticing the man over her shoulder. He looked darker than usual, and there was a gun in his hand. Then, he saw the guards shadows, slumped against the wall.
"How sweet – excuse me while I vomit." was his cutting remark, his fingers drumming the silver weapon. "Maybe we can get them to give you a joined cell,"
"What did you do?" he said.
"Just a little white lie," Collin chuckled darkly. "She swallowed it easily enough. Just what did you see in her, Ben?"
Ellie was unfazed by the gun, standing up with her handbag tightly in her hands. "Get out of here, Collin." She snapped.
"Who is the one with the gun here?" Collin snapped at her, turning the silver piece of steel at her instead of Ben. "Oh yeah – me! So I'll be giving the orders, missy."
"I disagree," Ellie said, and from her handbag, she drew an identical gun. "I had to steal it from Kathy but I knew it would come in handy,"
Both stood, staring at each other with cruel intention in their eyes. Neither lowered their guns, pointing at each other. Then, there was the crack of gunshot.
---
The schoolyard was bustling with parents and their children as the school day ended. Amy was stood, anxious in the crowds. Andrew was coming home today and she wanted to prepare a meal for her new family.
But as the yard grew steadily less crowded, Amy couldn't see her children leaving the school. She dithered for several moments when the yard was deserted completely, then headed for the school office.
"Hello?" she said to the woman behind the desk – a small bespectacled woman in a tartan skirt. "I was wondering if you knew where my children were."
The woman gave her a searching look. "What's the name?"
"It's Bourne." Amy said instantly. "Tom and Catherine Bourne."
The woman typed at her computer, her glasses reflecting the blue glare of the screen. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Bourne but it seems they were checked out at 3:15 by a woman claiming to be their aunt. For a dental appointment."
The woman reached in the desk and withdrew a thick blue book, depositing it before Amy. She flicked through the pages to the most recent entry and there was the untidy scrawl that was horrifically familiar to Amy.
Mrs. C. Gates.
Charlene had her children.
---
"Mrs. Gates, where are you taking us?" Tom asked curiously, staring out the window. They had driven down winding streets that were unfamiliar to the teen.
"I'm taking you home, Thomas." Charlene replied. She had fled from the hospital after Matthew had left her. She had attacked the nurse who had tried to stop her. No one would stop in her path. If she could not have Matt's children in life, then it would be in death.
Tom looked at his sister, who was asleep. However, his mind was put at ease when they arrived on Appleby Street.
"Right, just drop us off at Mr. Dale's please." Tom said politely. But Charlene ignored him, pulling up on the gravely driveway of their old house.
"What are you doing?" he demanded but Charlene continued to feign deafness as she climbed out of the silver escort then wrenched open his door.
"Get out now," she hissed. "Don't argue, just get out."
He obeyed, fearing the wide-eyed expression of madness. "What's wrong with Catherine?" he asked the woman as she went to open his sister's door.
"She's asleep." Charlene replied, lifting the young girl from her seat and carrying her to the front door. It stood, slightly askew. "Hurry up Thomas," she called cheerfully.
The teen was tempted to run for help, but the woman had his sister. He followed her reluctantly into his old house, noticing the strange signs that were left by Jacob.
"What happened here?" he asked, turning to see the door was hanging loosely by its hinges. He felt something blunt hit the back of his head and he forgot his worries.
---
"Pick up the phone," Amy screeched into her Bluetooth headset, but to no avail. The Jones did not answer her phone, neither did the Dales. Following her children's kidnapping, she had ran for her car and hastily hurried for her house.
Why had Charlene taken her children? Charlene was heavily pregnant – she had been rushed to hospital earlier. Amy had seen the ambulances.
Fearing the worst when she saw the silver escort parked on the drive of her old home, she parked her car on the sidewalk and rushed for the door. She would confront Charlene herself until the police arrived.
"Oh my god!" she screamed when she saw door hanging loosely by a single hinge. "Tom! Catherine!" she cried, standing in the hallway, looking around.
"Mummy?" was the sleepy reply of her daughter. She turned around to find the door closed, with Charlene in the way.
"Hello Amy," Charlene said. Her stomach was noticeably smaller and her face wore an expression of haggard exhaustion and a sinister darkness. In her hands were a large harpoon gun and a length of rope. "Nice of you to come,"
"Where are they?" Amy yelled. "Where are Tom and Catherine?"
Charlene smiled and pointed at the Lounge. The furniture was destroyed, but on the leather sofa were her children. Her daughter tied up with her brother by the same rope as Charlene was holding. Tom was unconscious, a disgusting brown-red colour staining his beautiful blonde hair. Was it blood?
"You evil cow," Amy shrieked. "Leave my children alone," she took a step towards them before she felt her stomach twinge in pain. The child was coming.
"They are perfectly safe, Amy," Charlene said, aiming the harpoon gun at Amy. It had been a wedding present from the Wilkinson's – carved from the finest wood and in a glass case. It was perfectly deadly in the wrong hands.
"You let them go now," Amy said. "Release them,"
"You're in no position to order me about," Charlene snapped. "You're heavily pregnant with no one to help you."
"The police are coming," Amy said. "They'll arrest you, you psychopath."
"Words, Amy." Charlene said. "When the police arrive, we'll all be in heaven."
Amy swallowed. What did she mean?"
"Now, unless you want your children to die, I'm going to tie you up so you don't cause any trouble." Charlene was already advancing on her, the rope in her hands. The harpoon gun hung over her shoulder by a thick leather strap. She bound Amy tightly.
"Now, you're going to say goodbye to your children for the last time," Charlene said, dragging the pregnant woman by her hair to her tied children. "Say goodbye."
Amy knelt down and caressed Catherine's cheek, kicking the tear-soaked face. "Don't worry sweetheart, I'll get us out of here," she whispered, wrapping her arms around her young daughter. Then, she kissed Tom on the forehead and stood up.
"Like small spaces Amy?" Charlene asked. "I hope you're not claustrophobic."
Amy kept her silence as Charlene led her back into the hall and towards the airing closet. Then, she tore at the Amy's hair, wrenched open the door and threw Amy in.
Disorientated at first, Amy regained her composure quickly. She pressed an eye to the keyhole to see Charlene's back to her. Her hand went for the golden door-handle.
"Don't try to escape," Charlene said. When she turned around, Amy saw she was dousing the hall in petrol. "I've bolted it from the outside." She said before disappearing into the lounge with the large bottle of petroleum.
Amy was almost in constant pain now. Her contractions were closer together now, nearly every minute. She could not remember when but her waters must have broken.
"Let me out now, you psycho! You are sick, you know." She screamed, hammering on the door. Charlene did not answer her, so Amy gave up, struggling to keep herself from giving birth in the cupboard.
Charlene was singing quietly now, and Amy pressed her eye to the keyhole. Charlene was back in the hall – but the petrol bottle was gone. The hall floor was glistening with petrol, even in this dusky light.
Charlene had helped herself to some champagne from the liquor closet in the dining room. She dropped two blue pills into the alcoholic drink. It fizzed slightly before she downed the whole bottle. She hiccoughed then looked in Amy's direction.
"Sleeping pills," she explained loudly. "I'd offer you some but I gave the rest to your children." Then, she withdrew a matchbox from her pocket and lit a match, the orange-red glow glowing feebly.
"Charlene, there has to be another way!" Amy said – her voice desperate now. "Please, let my children go. Don't let them suffer." She pleaded.
Charlene shook her head. "No, Amy, there isn't another way. Your husband betrayed me and this is my revenge. Once he finds everyone he loves is dead, he'll regret the day he walked out on me."
"Charlene…" Amy said softly. "You don't need to do this. Matt tried to destroy my life as well, but I survived. You can too – just don't let him destroy your life."
For a moment, Amy thought it had worked. Charlene stood; her face full of doubt and sadness. Her eyes filled with genuine tears and she looked directly at Amy. "What else can I do?" she said sadly.
Amy went to reply but the sound of sirens stirred Charlene. The sleeping pills took effect and Charlene dropped the match as she fell, her body hitting the floor the same time as the match.
The house exploded in colour. Charlene disappeared from view behind the amber-coloured flames. The petrol allowed the fire to spread quickly, the wooden floor aiding in the destruction. Fire danced in the hallway, spreading towards the lounge.
Amy screamed, and noticed that she was already into labour. She remembered her exercises and began to push.
---
Alex Dale was pulling into the street when he saw that 12 Appleby Street was alight. Fire danced from the downstairs windows and thick black plumes of smoke through the upstairs windows. The loud cracking of the fire was bringing attention to the house.
While the neighbours gathered around the blazing house, the sirens grew louder – the police accompanied by the distant ringing of the fire engines.
Melissa Johnson was first to notice the possible danger when she observed the two cars.
"Oh my goodness," she gasped. "People are inside!"
Alex removed his leather jacket, running from his car to the front door. As he wrenched open the askew door, it fell sideways, severed from its hinges. Inside, smoke and fire combined. A body lay in the centre of the flames, unmoving and blackening.
He heard a tiny cry from the lounge, a child's voice whispering. "Help…"
"Whose there?" he yelled over the roar of the flames, the heat burning at his bare arms. Each breath he took, he was inhaling more smoke.
"Catherine…" coughed the tiny voice and he ran into the lounge. The pair was tied together on one of the sofas while flames danced around them.
Alex ran forward but the heat of the fire repelled him. He looked around, trying to find some aid.
His eyes saw a fire extinguisher in a corner, obscured by smoke. Crouching as he walked to avoid deadly smoke inhalation, he grabbed the heavy red extinguisher. Within minutes, he had created a path to the two children.
"Charlene," Catherine mumbled sleepily. "She kidnapped us."
"Where is she?" Alex asked as he tore at the ropes.
"In the hall," Catherine coughed and the vivid image of the blackening body came back to Alex, causing him to wince. The ropes were now untied, but both children were unwilling to move.
"C'mon," he yelled, throwing Catherine over his shoulder. But Tom was unresponsive, and he noticed the blood on his head. He ran for the front door, carrying the young girl out of her burning house. The police and fire engines had pulled up, men in uniform dashing about.
"Stay here," he said to Catherine as he put her down on the lawn. The heat was even more intense now as he re-entered the house, the body gone. He gulped as he went into the lounge and found the fire extinguisher was gone.
"Thought you would rescue them?" said a scathing voice, bitter and twisted. Alex turned around and saw Charlene, her flesh burned and disgusting. She smiled cruelly before he saw a flash of red. A second later, he was on the floor, consciousness fading away and he saw Charlene holding the fire extinguisher and laughing.
---
The fire had brought the neighbours from their homes, all watching as the house burned fiercely. Thick plumes of smoke were filling the sky and the second floor was now ablaze, the very foundations of the house crumbling. Parts of the roof were close to caving in. The house was dying, slowly and horrifically.
Catherine was now in the care of several police officers when a third car pulled up. Andrew and Brad got out the car, both standing in awe of the fire. Steel handcuffs bound their hands.
"Andrew!" Catherine yelled, fighting off the officers and hurrying to the man. She threw her arms around his navel. "Mummy's inside." She said.
---
The door opened. Terri was asleep in her room – or pretending to be. She heard quiet footsteps followed by the door closing and a click of a lock closing.
"I'm sorry about earlier Terri," Sophie said. "I know you're only pretending to sleep. You did it all the time when you were twelve,"
Terri opened her eyes, facing the beige wall. The lightning showed her sister approaching her, both hands behind her back.
"Do you remember why you have amnesia?" Sophie said, continuing the one-sided conversation. She was getting closer. Terri could see something sharp behind her back.
"Why don't you put the knife down, Sophie? Another death attempt won't work when I'm expecting it." Terri said, sitting up.
Sophie pounced at Terri, brandishing a long silver kitchen knife. Terri caught her sister by the wrists. Sophie screamed, as Terri forced her to relinquish the knife. The silver blade fell and embedded itself in the mattress.
"You know it was me?" Sophie hissed, as she pinned her younger sister against the wall.
"I never had amnesia, Sophie." Terri said, kneeing Sophie in the stomach. "It was all an act. I wanted to expose you for the cold-blooded murderer you are."
"Liar!" Sophie hissed as Terri leapt off the bed and went for the door. "I never killed her."
Terri rattled the door handle but it would not open. "You killed mum, no matter what dad says. And you stole my daughter."
"Your daughter is dead," Sophie shrieked, grabbing Terri by her hair. "She died, years ago. You're going to join her soon enough."
With one final burst of strength, Sophie crashed Terri's head against the bedpost where her sister lay still and bloody.
---
Amy heard the sound of people talking. She began to scream but her voice was hoarse. With as much strength as she could muster, she hammered on the door with one hand while she held the baby with another.
It was a boy – a beautiful, healthy baby boy. He was wrapped tightly in her jacket, with a mop of golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He was coughing and squeezing her little finger with his tiny hand, crying loudly.
"Get away from the door," she heard a man shout, and she pressed herself as close against the opposite wall as possible.
A silver blade appeared between the wood, and the axe continued to hack at the closed door. Finally, the door swung open, allowing Amy to escape.
One fire fighter took her baby from her, and another helped her to her feet and supported her out of the house.
She was led to a cluster of ambulances. In one was her teenage son, Tom, who wore an oxygen mask. Alex Dale was in the second, in a similar state to Tom. In the third was an occupied body bag. The fire fighter returned and her newborn child was returned.
"We're taking you to hospital for a check-up," he told her before heading back towards the building. A second fire fighter brought over Catherine, who sat beside her.
Amy breathed heavily, cradling her child. Finally, things were going to be all right.
"Mummy?" Catherine gave a wheezy cough, her eyes unfocused. "I don't feel well." Then Catherine collapsed to the floor, pale and still.
"Catherine? Catherine!"
---
In the blue body bag, Charlene lay, burned and horrifically scarred. She was almost unrecognizable.
But she realised she had accomplished her goal. She had destroyed all who Matt loved. She smiled; a secret smile to her then closed her eyes, finally at rest.