Drabble 6: Flame.
"Wait… she what?"
"You heard me."
"..That..that sucks. What happened?"
"It's a long story."
She goes to sleep cuddling a stuffed rabbit, one she'll never get to hold again.
She senses it before she wakes; dreams of flames licking at her toes and scorching her skin. Fumes suffocating her lungs and poisoning her from inside out. The little girl thrashes around in her sheets, limbs tangled and a few baby curls plastered to the back of her neck from sweat.
In the end, she wakes because she's thirsty.
Rubbing her eyes, she realizes very quickly that her nightmares aren't just in her mind.
"Daddy?" She calls, mouth still not adjusted to her newly-installed braces. She coughs until her throat is raw and burning from the smoke, "Daddy!"
A thump and racing footfalls in the other room suggest her father hears her, for soon enough he's in her room and grabs her, dropping her precious floppy-eared toy.
"Daddy, wait!" But it's hopeless; she watches pathetically as her bunny lays on her bedroom floor, abandoned. The eight year old doesn't cry, because obviously it's just a stupid toy. It's not like she can't sleep without it, and even if she can't, everything would be fine, right? Maybe Mommy doesn't care, but Daddy does. Daddy wouldn't let anything bad happen to her or her bunny.
Her dad grabs a file of papers before carrying the two downstairs, out of the house. He practically drops her on the lawn before rushing back inside to get his wife.
"Daddy, get my bunny!" She yells after him, cross-legged and terrified. She watches as her childhood home goes up in flames, tears in her eyes. Maybe it's a dream, she thinks. Though, she's not that stupid. She knows this is now and this is happening, but she doesn't want to. All the little girl wants is a glass of water and her rabbit that Daddy had given her when she was born.
Her parents rush out of the house once again and her heart's thumping loudly in her ears, eyes darting around the contents in their hands. Daddy held important papers. Mommy… Mommy held a music box.
"I'm sorry, Natalie. The firefighters will get here soon, and we'll get you your bunny." Her father looks truly upset, sitting next to her and putting an arm around her shoulder. Mommy just cries.
"I'm sorry! He.. he asked me to make him something to eat and I… the stove…" Her mother sobs, and Natalie cocks an eyebrow.
"Who'sth 'he'?" She asks, but her dad's mouth is in a tight line. She doesn't ask again.
When the firetrucks pull onto Walton Way, it's too late. Natalie glares at that stupid music box, trying not to think of her own possessions that are completely destroyed, or the infamous 'he'.
It's no wonder, since then, sleep tends to elude her.