PINK

24

'Smoke and

Screens.'

It's like all her senses except her sight have shut off, given up almost. The heat of the raging fire becomes more radiant as time passes and as time does continue, her senses start up again. The crackling of the blaze creeps into her ears as do the murmurs of curious neighbours. The smell of burning wood and plastic invade her nostrils and make her feel lightheaded.

"How did this happen?" She mutters to her shocked self, before a loud crashing sound sends all on-lookers into a sudden fright. Iara witnesses the whole left part of the home, collapse onto the ground, beams of burning wood plummet on top of each other and disintegrate into ashes, black and white ashes. Some people scream at the sight but don't do anything other than watch.

Iara then remembers Dante and how he is is still trapped inside. She internally yells and runs toward the dying home. The front door abolished, she runs around to the right side where Stephen was before. The heat is excruciating and her skin feels like it's burning; the surface sparking with little shocks of pain. She can feel beads of sweat drop down her forehead.

"Dante!" She screams through the broken window. Smoke enters through her open mouth and fills her lungs, making them falter for a moment. She heartily coughs before inhaling the polluted air again.

"Dante!" She bellows with all the energy and clean air she has inside her lethargic body. She screams and collapses onto her knees as she watches the flames spread across the house, smoothly like semi-warm butter. Iara feels her body rack with terrible tremors she can't control. He's dead, she thinks. All because of the revenge of an unstable man.

She whimpers, her lips pushed together tightly. The tears seep into the crevice her tightened lips make.

"Dante." She calls, voice broken and quiet.

"Dante, Dante, Dante." She whispers. Her arms wrap tightly around her shaking body, self-comfort of some sort. A little bit of warmth still battles in her heart; the hope he could still be alive is enough to keep her going. She groans and tries to lift herself up from the ashy ground. After falling back down she grunts louder and with enough force she is on her wobbly feet.

Iara unsteadily runs to the back of the house, a place she has never been before. A screen door is the only way in and to her luck, it is broken. She limps her way over to the entrance and enters the house. Thick and black smoke hovers around the walls of murder, making it hard to see. The crackle of the raging fire is louder and remind her of the harrowing visions she used to experience.

Despite vowing to herself she would hold her breath, keeping the fresh air in as long as she could, her lungs deceive her and she sucks in the dense smoke through her gritted teeth. Iara can feel it clog her lungs and airway.

"Dante!" She breathlessly hollers, stepping over debris and inspecting each passing room. She gets to the room where the dead bodies are, the air reeks with death and blood. Iara's stomach churns sourly.

"Dante." She calls, hope threaded in her tone. She sees a heaving body laying on the floor, their chest falling and rising with each polluted breath. Her mind races back to Braden on the road. She shakes the image and brings herself back.

Kneeling before the body, she can't help but allow her dusty and dry lips to smile. She would take Dante out and save him from his plight.

"Dante." She says caressing his ash stained cheek. As her pointer finger glides across his skin, a bundle of ash sticks to her skin and it leaves a clean streak on him. Again, she can't help but remember the dirty window in Braden's car.

His head turns and his lips spread across his face in a smile. Iara notices his lips are a little thin and more white then they would usually be. She parses it as being the fire's doing.

The smoke mist is above the floor making it hard for her to clearly see his body. Was he hurt? Is that why he's not moving?

"Dante, I'm going to save you okay? We are going to get out." She reassures him. She takes her hand and slips it under his body, pushing, she can't seem to slide under his back, he is too heavy.

"Just lift yourself up a bit." She tells him. She tries again but he doesn't budge.

"Dante, don't die on me, come on." Iara is surprised she can find her voice amongst the hazy atmosphere.

Still pushing, her hand suddenly slips under his back. "Good." She praises as she tries to lift him up to sit upright. Her tiny wrist struggles with his solid frame, it shakes the more effort she puts in.

"Argh." She groans as her wrist gives way and the heavy back thuds onto the ground. A low and devious laugh creeps into the room, cutting through the air like a blade.