Blinded and Loveless

So M.J's mother did the only thing she could do to save her only reason for living. She grabbed M.J, grabbing jackets, pullovers, scarves, anything she could get her hands on from the other guests, and swathed M.J in a cocoon. The tears were pouring now, but she had made her decision. Her baby girl was not going to die this way. She kissed her tiny cherubic face, pulled her close for a moment, and then thrust her into the air, a second before the deck collapsed, bringing the back side of the house with it. It crashed to the ground in a mound of soot and rubble. Only a small portion of the house was still standing.

M.J flew through the air, much farther than she would have thought possible. She closed her tiny little eyes and prayed that if she died, she would have much prefered to land on the grass instead of asphalt. But instead, she landed into someone's arms. With an intake of breath, she opened her eyes to see a woman with long black hair tied in a braid that went all the way down her back looking startlingly back at her. She could tell just by looking at her that the woman was nice.

The woman pulled M.J into a tight embrace, crooning softly to her. M.J started crying. She lifted a hand and pointed back to where disaster had struck, leaving her with nothing. The woman gasped again when she saw what remained of her home, of her parents. The woman suddenly whipped out a small silver cellphone. She pressed three buttons.

"Hello? Yes, this is Gilda Mansfield," Gilda said. She started muttering rapidly into the phone, too fast for M.J to understand. She only got snippets of the conversation. She heard the words fire, baby, homeless, foster care, and her address. When Gilda was done, she stuffed the phone back into her purse, and turned to M.J.

"The fire department and police are on their way," she said, as if M.J could understand, but what Gilda didn't know was that, M.J did. Gilda started unwrapping the strips of clothing off of M.J.

"You poor thing. You could have heat stroke on a night like this," Gilda murmured, holding M.J in the cradle of her arms. The sun had sunk behind the trees, the fire from the house ablaze. It was still going, and soon, the rest of the house tumbled down until there was nothing standing. Just a big mound of rubble, and somewhere underneath, twenty four human beings. Two of them her own flesh and blood. The night around her seemed peaceful, and she wondered how something so good could end so quickly. She didn't understand.

About ten minutes later, she heard the faint sound of a fire truck, followed by police sirens. But those sounds did not bring relief to her. If not for Gilda's, warm strong arms, M.J would be close to breaking down. She already was. She was on the brink of tears. Babies weren't known for holding their tears back, but M.J was too smart and mature for her own good. She acted more like an adult than some of the actual adults she knew.

The four fire trucks pulled up in M.J's drive way. Fireman jumped off and grabbed a hose that must have been at least fifty feet long, or maybe more. Before long, the fire was out, and the only light that illuminated the world around M.J were the police lights. Gilda held her close, talking quietly to the policeman, explaining what had happened, at least what she had witnessed. M.J didn't know if she actually witnessed the fire, or if she was just giving her assumptions of what happened. Gilda kept a tight grip on her, even when a policewoman offered to take her.

M.J didn't know what was to happen to her now. She had no parents. No home. She had heard of a thing called a foster home when her mother was chatting with her dad about one of her friends and how unfortunate her situation was. But she didn't really understand the concept. But she knew it wasn't really something that was smiled upon.

Gilda and the policeman stood and talked softly for a little while, trying to sort things out. M.J was so exhausted. More exhausted than she had ever felt in her life. As much as she had lived of it. She wanted nothing more than to just lay her head back and fall asleep. But she didn't want to miss anything, but she was still young, and sometimes you just can't help what your body wants. So M.J relaxed from her stiff position and drifted into slumber.