BAD HABITS || CARL GRIMES

three

SMOKE, I woke up to the thick scent of smoke filling the air, rising up and filling my nostrils.

It took me a moment to gather my thoughts before I grabbed my knife and took off running downstairs. My lungs burned as I inhaled the smoke, smoke filled the house, the air, all I could see was the burning red embers that blocked my way of escaping.

Quickly, I run back up the stairs and slam open Emilia's door, realizing she isn't here.

What happened, how did the fire start? How do I get out?

I hurry to my room and look out my window, learning quickly that I can't escape that way.

I turn down the stairs again and stay low to the ground, trying to stay away from the smoke as much as possible.
It burns my eyes and blurs my vision.
The heat radiates all over me as the fire grows.

You're going to die in here, unless you find a way out of here quickly.

The only way to a window or the door is through the fire. The same fire that has burned through the kitchen from what the smoke lets me see, and is now making the living room look like the roaring pits of hell.

You'll die if you try and go through, you'll die if you don't.

I'm not ready to leave yet, to say goodbye to the blue sky and stained grass, to the memories that are almost long forgotten and to the places I wish to explore but will never get the chance too. I'm not ready.

Then you're going to have to fight.

Once again I race up the stairs, and run into Emilia's room, finding her gun sitting on top of her dresser. I grasp it in my hand and go to my room and hold it out the window, firing it; wasting a bullet but trying to save my life, trying to get people's attention.

I go to the bathroom I stood in yesterday and grab a long towel and drench it in cold water from the tap, then do the same to my hair, and my shoes. Attempting to prevent things from catching fire, attempting to prevent me from catching fire.

I take one last look at everything before grabbing the towel and walking out of the bathroom and to the bottom of the stairs.

I take a few deep breaths, trying to find the air that my lungs so badly crave but only end up coughing from the smoke. My eyes scan through the fires, trying to find the best exit. Once I open something to let myself out, the air will allow the fire to burn quicker and I'll need to escape quickly.

I find the best exit, the window right next to the bookshelf.

Do this quick.

I wrap the sobbing wet towel around my body and face as I stand slowly. My eyes peel open as I start to approach the fire , the heat radiating onto me.
Quickly with the water covered fabric over me, protecting my eyes and the rest of my face, I run through the flames. They catch my thigh and burn themselves into it and I scream out in pain as I reach the other side of the flames. I thrown the burning towel to the ground and feel my consciousness slipping away from me, the pain of the deep burn and lack of oxygen coursing through my veins. I stumble to the window, cursing under my breath and coughing wildly. My eyes fall upon people running towards our house as I reach for the latch of the window. I pull it open.

The air hits the fire, and the flames go wild. They throw themselves towards me, towards the air, towards their source of life. They burn my side, and I cry out, the flame dancing on my shirt as I try and put it out, it burns the skin instantly.

I bite my tongue so hard I taste blood as I throw a book from the shelf at the screen, trying to break it before I realize I have my knife. My shaking hands drag my blade over the screen and make a space big enough that I can crawl out.