A/n: wrote on a whim, liked it, published it.
My throat burned from screaming the other childrens' names. I struggled to stay upright, but the baby I was currently holding was flailling around, already fighting from my protective hold.
My legs, too, were burning. I had been one of the eldest, tasked with protecting the others should something happen to Ms. Dove. Jensen, the second oldest, had been the one to evacuate almost everyone before the Hollows raided our home.
He had shoved little Quinten into my arms before yelling at us to go, promising to find his way back to us. Some of the younger ones (Lola- aged 7, Ella- aged 9, Tommy- aged 12) were by my side. I shoved them forward, telling them to keep running, to not stop, and whatever happened to not look back.
Ms. Dove had been the one to start the fire, taking her and the Hollow with it. Jensen had refused to let me run back into the fire, reminding me of the promise we had made to our mother figure. He pulled me and Quin into his arms and sent us off, promising to find us.
That had been 13 days ago.
