Split Second

Split Second - Chapter Two

SPLIT SECOND - CHAPTER TWO

                The run was almost indescribable. Like living in a painting, I ran in a world untouched. Every muscle in my body working for a common goal; a perfect balance of movement and stillness. The people, the cars, the very world around me seemed as if it didn't exist. People froze mid laugh and birds just floated in the air seemingly by magic. Even the light came in a bit too slow for me, leaving my vision a strange combination of greens and blues.

I stopped at the beginning of my development, figuring it would be best for my parents to see me walking home. I walked slowly, feeling each raindrop as it splashed against my skin. Each one felt specific, a tiny splash of cold. I took a deep breath, taking in the cool air in, tasting it, enjoying it. My hair was drenched, and I could feel the rain drops tracing their way down my face. The pitter-patter of the drops reached my ears softly. I hated rain, but I had to admit, it was peaceful.

Of course the peacefulness couldn't last. I heard the sirens first, but didn't notice the fire truck until it was right next to me. Yeah I know, it's big, it's loud, and it's red. It doesn't change the fact that the stupid thing scared the life out of me.  What scared me more was that it turned onto my street. Like any sane person, my brain was screaming, Don't let it be my house. I looked up to see a billow of smoke billowing into the sky.

I turned the corner and felt the world collapse around me. It WAS my house. I ran, my legs pumping, a feeling of hopelessness hitting me like a truck with each breath. Every memory from the short year came rushing back to me. Painting the shed with my dad, swimming in the pool with my friends, the time I broke the back window. Despite the fire truck and rain, the fire burned defiantly. I stopped in panic, nothing in my life had prepared me for this.

I looked around for my parents, willing them with every fiber in my being to appear in front of me. They never came. I stood there in shock for minutes watching my home burn before anyone ever saw me.

"Excuse me," said a woman to my right, "But is this your home?" I couldn't even look at her. I just nodded as a mixture of raindrops and tears rolled down my face. That was all she needed, "Oh dear." I almost laughed at that. Really? My house is gone, and all the lady could say was oh dear? I turned to her, begging my body and mind to keep their composure. You could see pity in her entire expression.  She was pretty but the fact that she was wearing a black dress suit puzzled me. Strange woman, expensive suit, pouring rain, burning house. Thoughts came racing into my mind like a herd of wildebeests. RUN was the thought at the forefront of the stampede.

"What do I do?" I said almost to myself. All I wanted was for somebody somewhere to help me. I hated the feeling. It left me feeling like I was three years old again. Was there anybody out there to pull me from this moment?  

Apparently no one friendly.

"You can come with us," said a new voice from behind me, "We'll be able to help." I turned to see a man wearing almost the same outfit. Black suit, black tie, black shades. He pretty much screamed Men in Black wannabe. I looked at him skeptically. Momma always told me not to speak to strangers. "We're from the FBI," he continued, "We think someone set your house on fire on purpose."

"What about my parents?" I asked weakly, "Where are they?" All I wanted was to be with them. Sure, we fought, but what family didn't. I looked at the man, pleading for some good news. The way the man's expression changed seriously wasn't a good sign. The way the woman cried wasn't a good sign. The fact that both my parents cars were outside the house wasn't a good sign. I dreaded his response.

He began to talk the type of tone that you knew came with bad news and I almost lost it. "I'm sorry," he said, "They were inside the house when the fire started." The way he said it killed me. Almost robotic. He clearly didn't care, and I found a person I could see myself hate. "My name is Agent Sanders, and we'd really appreciate it if you could come with us," he said as he motioned to the woman.

"Really, your first name is Agent," I said, with venom in my voice, "you must have had a great childhood."

"Funny," coughed Sanders, "Now get in the damn car."