Comfort in Silence // dnf

Fire

The looming figure stood tall in the corner, threatening a swing of his arm. Threatening to hit the little boy standing in front of him

The same familiar smoke filled the room, fogging up different details, making them elusive and irrelevant 

"What did you think you were doing?"

The large man was closer, he was scarier.

"YOU IDIOT!"

Closer.

The arm came down, striking the boy across the face, leaving a large red handprint on the youngers face. 

Clay stood, staring with his wide eyes filled with fear and brimming with tears. He didn't dare speak, he knew it would only result in more pain. What was he to do when he was 9 years old and defenseless.

He continued to look up, to drink in every detail of the man in front of him. To internalized the terrifying figure that was his father. 

-------

Clay shot up, intaking a huge breath which he soon regretted as his lungs filled with smoke. George was standing at his bedside, he looked orange. 

The room looked orange. The room was orange.

The room was burning.

"We have to go, come on!" George yelled, pulling his friends arm. He was dragged down the stairs to the downstairs which was in a worse shape than upstairs. They escaped the burning house, breathing heavy and covered in ash. Nick was already outside, watching his friends burst through the door. He was far less dirty and looked worried. 

Sirens could be heard in the distance and their lights reflected on the horizon. 

"Patches?" Clay looked around frantically, remembering his cat who was no where to be seen.

Nick shook his head, and George obviously didn't have her as he was too preoccupied with Clay. He turned around, running back into the house, narrowly missing Georges hand that had shot out to stop him.

"That idiot!" He yelled as his friend disappeared into the doorway. 

Clay searched around, feeling the heat warm him up to an uncomfortable temperature. He didn't care, he had to find her.

Then he heard a faint meow. It was upstairs. 

He ran, he ran as fast as his body would let him. He ignored the pain in his lungs as he rushed to find Patches. He went into his room, seeing her in the corner, a look of pure fear in her eyes. He picked her up and whispered "its okay" to her as he reached for his phone on the bedside before exiting the room. Was that the smartest decision? Not really. But he needed to call his mom, and his family and he needed to be able to have some way to talk to people. 

He cornered out of the room, heading towards the stairs, only to see a beam had fallen, blocking off a portion of it. 

I can make it through there. 

He curled over Patches to make sure she wasn't hurt by the fire. Instead he was, as flames licked up his back as he pushed through the opening. He hissed at the burning feeling but kept going, getting out and watching the beam fall all the way, blocking off the stairway completely. 

That was too close.

Now that he was clear of that obstacle, he was able to make it out, coming out of the doorway to the approaching emergency vehicles and a very worried George. He was gasping for air, about to pass out, his muscles ached and his back burned. But he was alive.