Custody Granted (Scömìche)

One

My guitar case feels heavy on my back as I make my way along the dark streets of LA. It's late. Not so late that I could fall asleep right here on the sidewalk, but late enough that my steps are a bit quicker than they would be in broad day light. I can't see anybody around me, which is both calming and frightening for a weak muscled, 16 year old girl like me. It's times like this I wish I hadn't run away from home. Then again, life on the street is better than living in constant fear of being beaten to death by your own father.

I turn a corner and sigh in relief when I see the street is empty. I make my way down to the end of the road and sit on the stone steps of an old record store that's been closed for years. This is where I usually sleep at night. It's no 5 star hotel, but it's better than sleeping in the park. I open the door and head inside the dimply lit building. The electricity in this building hasn't worked in years so I don't even look at the light switch. Instead, I pull out my lighter and light the few candles I managed to swipe from someone's trash can, making it much easier to see.

The owner of this place obviously didn't care about any of their records because they left a lot of them in the store when it closed. There are 75 years worth of records in here. Some are from as early as the 1920's, while others are from as late as 2004. These records are the closest I will ever get to a real family. There's a record in here for any and every emotion I could feel or problem I could face. When I'm happy I listen to whatever Jazz Age record I can find. However if I'm feeling sad or lonely, I tend to listen to Billy Joel, Elton John and sometimes even Aerosmith. I guess you could say I'm really into music. Considering I've been playing guitar since I was 5, you could definitely say I'm into music... a lot.

I set my stuff down in a corner and unzip my guitar case, opening it slowly. I pull out my blanket from underneath my guitar and lay it on the floor before closing the case. I decide to sleep in just my tank top and jeans so I unbutton my flannel and ball it up to use as a pillow. I lie down on the blanket and shut my eyes as sleep overtakes me.

*****************************************************

I awake in fit of coughing and choking. I'm surrounded by thick clouds of smoke and debris.

"What in the world?" I whisper to myself.

I got up only to find that the record store was engulfed in flames. The candles I lit fell over while I was sleeping and the wood floor caught on fire. Hundreds of my favorite albums were now nothing but ashes, burned to nothing. I went to grab my guitar case, but it too was surrounded by the orange flames that licked the air around me.

I grabbed my flannel from the floor and ran for the front door, dodging the fast spreading heat throughout the store. I grabbed the handle of the door and pulled on it, but the door wouldn't budge. I pushed and pulled over and over again, but the door refused to move. I frantically searched for another exit, but the flames kept me from getting to the back door. I looked for something to break a window with, but everything I could've used had already been consumed by the fire.

I was stuck.

The only thing I could do was call for help.

"HEEEELLP!!!!!" Hello!!!! Is anyone out there?!?!!! I banged my fists on the door and windows hoping someone would hear me. Someone was bound to notice the fire sooner or later.

I'd favor sooner rather than later though.

As I continued banging and crying for help, more smoke filled the air and my lungs. I coughed and cried, unable to breathe. Suddenly I heard a voice outside.

"Hello?! Is someone in there?!" A man said.

"YES *cough* GET ME OUT OF *cough* HERE!!" I yelled.

I then felt a banging on the other side of the door. I took a few steps back, falling to my knees from my the lack of air. My head hit the ground hard and I continued to cough as I heard more banging around me.

"Hurry," I whispered.

That was the last thing I said before my eyes finally slipped shut.