Sometimes tragedies are a good thing

The fire and the rescue

Isabelle POV

The smell of smoke is what wakes me up: the way it's filling the house, the way it burns my lungs without me breathing any of it in, the way it clings to every surface it passes, the way it makes me cough. On high alert, I jump out of bed and run out of my room, running to my parents room, screaming when I see orange flames covering every inch of our house.

"Mum, Dad!" I shout, my words coming out heavy and thick. The flames are making me hog so I shed my tank top, leaving me only in my pyjama shorts and red bra. The door to my parents room is engulfed in flames so I know that there's no way I can get to them and get them out, not if they're not already out of the house or dead. Knowing it's fruitless getting into my parents room, I run as fast as I can, dodging the flames and smoke, the smoke entering my lungs, to my baby sister's room, hoping I can at least get her out of here alive.

"Alice!" I shout, my voice is thick from the smoke. "Ali!" I yell as I enter my baby sister's room, which is full of the orange flames.

"ALICE!" I yell, my voice getting weaker and weaker with each word I say. I walk over to my sister's bed and pick her up in my arms and carry out of her room and start walking downstairs when I fall down the stairs, my most likely dead baby sister still cradled in my arms. I weakly feel for a pulse but as I expected, I find none.

So over the crackling of the flames that is devouring my house and my family, I scream as I hold my baby sister in my arms, hoping my death is quick and painless just like my parents and sister.

I don't know how long I scream into my dead sister when I hear voices.

"Will, try and find any survivors!" A voice barks out a demand. I ignore the voices and continue screaming.

"Hello?" The voice shouts over the burning flames.

"Harry, over here." A man says as they appear beside me. I ignore both of them and stare at my sister's face: her green eyes are closed, her lips are slightly parted and it if weren't for burned clothes, soot on her face and charred little body, I could swear she's only sleeping.

"Isabelle, we need to get you out of here." One of the vices says gently. I shake my head and find myself being scooped up into a pair of arms, I struggle with their grips, screaming for them to let me go and to let me die with my family.

I'm placed on the ground, my bare feet on the concrete, I try running back into my house but arms are around my waist, restraining me, and I can only cry and scream as I watch my house and family burn to the ground.

"NO!" I scream, ignoring my lungs protests.

Everything I've ever known: my parents, my baby sister who is only five years old, my childhood home, is burnt to the ground. I scream and fall to my knees, bringing my restrainer down with me, tears pouring down my face.

"No!" I sob as the arms lift me into their arms. The sounds of sirens in the air and the flashing blue lights are blinding me.

"Isabelle, we need to check you out, can you come with us?" A paramedic asks. With tears still running down my face, I shake my head.

"Isabelle, we don't know how much smoke you inhaled while in the house, you need  to get checked out, willingly or forcibly." The paramedic says with a warning in his voice. I flinch.

"Isabelle, would it help if me and my wife come with you?" The arms holding me asks me.

I nod slightly: why are they doing this for me?

Harry POV

I hold Isabelle in my arms, glaring at the paramedic menacingly, daring him to say one more word to Isabelle.