To The Fire
3 roses in her hand.
3 roses that cannot stand.
1 rose falls to the fire.
The single rose, burns as the flames grow higher.
When we finally returned home, it was dark out. This time we both went our separate ways into our own rooms. I drifted off into yet another dreamless sleep. Until it was disturbed by screaming.
I quickly sat up in bed and surveyed my surroundings. Heat. Smoke. Screams. Fire. The house was on fire! I accidentally inhaled the smoke and felt it burning my lungs. I quickly jumped out of bed and grabbed the remaining three roses and tried to run from the room. I grabbed the handle of the door as the fire began spreading throughout the room. As soon as I touched the metal handle, I hissed in pain and jerked my hand away. Duh. I mentally scolded myself for touching the metal handle. I guess I kind of deserved it.
I quickly sprinted across the room to the window. I unlocked it and yanked it open. I began climbing out and was to my waist. Once I crawled the rest of the way out, I began sucking in lung-full after lung-full of clean fresh air. I looked at my roses that were assumably covered in ash and soot, such as I was, but what I saw shocked me more. I had dropped a rose. In the house. I pulled myself off the ground and stared through the window to see my rose withering and burning as the flames grew higher.
I felt a stray tear cut through the dirt and grime on my face and make a clear path. This was almost my second home. I guess a rose really did belong here. An earsplitting shriek sliced through my thoughts as I was almost knocked down by a certain friendly angel. That was my only friend. And my only friend was sobbing in the crook of my neck.