An arsonists cookbook

Chapter 5: Emile Kovač

His mother beckoned him down the stairs, they only spoke in Czech. His brother had forgotten his lunch so his mother told him to go and give it to him at his art school. Emile picked up his lunch and go his shoes and a coat on, he also got a small green beanie. As he tucked his hair under the beanie he looked at the storm forming in the clouds outside. I mustn't be long. He thought as he walked out of the door and shut it behind him. He began to jog to his brothers art school. He was always jealous of Matyáš. He was always second best to Matyáš, Emile had no talents  , whereas, Matyáš had every talent thinkable. Matyáš could write extraordinarily well, he could play three instruments, he could sing, he could dance and finally: he could paint. Emile was always the underdog in everything, no matter what they did. Matyáš always got onto the football teams as a first team player, however, Emile was always a reserve at most. Emile had the potential to become the worlds greatest goalkeeper if Matyáš hadn't of gotten in the limelight so early in their lives. In a way, Emile hated his brother. A quite and suppressed voice told him that he should be dead and maybe that would make Matyáš look like an underdog in the celebrity world but then again, nothing makes you famous like being dead. Matyáš would soak up the fame like a giant sponge. The worst of it has passed, stay strong. Emile told himself. He was almost to the art school now.

When he finally made it into the reception area, he walked to the desk and got a visitors pass and walked to a large hallway. Matyáš's room was at the very end. The main class, of course. Emile thought as he squinted down the huge bustling hallway. As he walked he looked at the destiny Wilton carpet. He suddenly felt a vibration and before he knew it, he was flung back a few meters. As he slowly sat up, he saw the long hallway in flames. His eyes widened. His breathing sped up. He had already dropped the lunch. He had a pulsing pain in his left leg. He looked down at his legs and saw a huge chunk of debris lodged into his left leg, just above his thigh. His pants were now crimson, the blood spread out onto the floor. He was losing a lot of blood and fast. The flames were getting closer. He had to crawl to survive. He turned onto his stomach. The pain in his leg made him sick to his stomach. Every time he moved forwards he felt the tendons in his leg detach from one-another. The pain squeezed a squeal out of him. He saw figures moving in the smoke. He felt a tug on his right leg, he turned around to see something he wish he hadn't. He saw a burning man grabbing onto his leg. He pulled away his leg and it ripped the hand from the burning man. It was too much for Emile and he passed out.