Distortion

April 30, 1884 - Sleep

 Shivering under the covers in the long white cotton night dress that Beth gave me, I tried to stay warm. Piling on two extra wool blankets hadn't helped; I still felt like I was sleeping in an over-sized icebox.

I had snuggled under the covers so far my face was barely visible. An electric blanket. That's what I needed, the kind that gets so hot you could cook yourself. When I got home I would never take central heating for granted again. There were lots of things I wouldn't take for granted.

The thought of going home left a slight metallic taste in my mouth. I wanted to go home, to my dad. I really missed him but every day spent with Merrick lessened the intensity of the pull toward home. I wondered if my dad had flown in from Germany, searching, wondering where I had disappeared to. It killed me that he might be desperately looking for me and here I was, unable to let him know I was okay.

Outside my window it was raining so hard, it sounded like millions of tiny nails being pounded into wood. That plus the booms of distant thunder resonated in my ears. Occasional flashes of lightning illuminating my room–a triple whammy.

The house wasn't built like Priscilla's and Everett's. This one felt vulnerable, weak compared to the elements. I held the blankets up against my neck and wished Merrick and the others would hurry back.

The rain faded slightly, but the bursts of lightning came more often. Through the lace curtains, unforgiving blue spider veins of lightning struck at the earth again and again. Lying motionless, I tried to suppress the panic rising up. When I heard what sounded like someone banging cymbals right next to my ears, I nearly jumped out of bed and my heart catapulted into my throat.

One enormous smack of lightning hit so close my room illuminated like noonday. Tightly shutting my eyes, I willed the storm to give up and move to the next town. Normally I wasn't so easily scared, but it was dark, no one else was home, and I was miles from another human being. Back at home, I would have loved a storm like this. But not here.

It must have worked. The lightning grew distant. Poking my head out of the covers, an odd smell drifted up my nose. I tried to identify the scent. Maybe the lingering smell of dinner; I had slightly burnt the steak. Crap. That was it—something was burning.

For a moment I debated whether to get up or stay under the covers. But the pungent smell grew stronger, more intense. I was still freezing. The chill had seeped into my bones, but since Beth was gone and I was in charge of the house, responsibility won over comfort.

Throwing the covers aside I got up, and cold air attacked me from every angle. With clenched teeth, I sucked in an involuntary breath. Goosebumps traveled over my skin, screaming for me to get back under the covers. I wished I had a fleece robe or sweats to throw on. In a useless effort to stay warm, I blew on my fists.

Opening my bedroom door, I was immediately trapped by a plume of smoke. Flames licked at my door. How in the world had I not sensed the freaking house was on fire! Coughing, I slammed the door shut, but the smoke followed me in. I pulled the top of my nightdress up to cover my nose. Remembering a Fire Safety assembly in elementary school, I got on my knees, staying low to the ground. Maybe I could crawl out of the room. But I saw it was too late. The door was already on fire. It was moving faster than I was.

Within seconds fire was gnawing through the wooden door. I crawled to the opposite side of the room, dropping the nightdress from my mouth as I tried to yank open the window. It didn't budge. I'd done this before—why wouldn't it open now? I must have jammed it. The tips of my fingers were white from the pressure I was inflicting on them. Useless, it wasn't going to move an inch, much less open enough to get my whole body out.

Leaning back against the window sill, I faced the door. To my horror, the fire had nearly consumed it. The walls cracked as the fire began devouring them. Screaming for help, I beat on the window with my fist, trying to shatter the glass.

The heat of the bright orange flames crept closer, as black smoke billowed in. I looked around desperately for anything I might use to break the window but couldn't see a thing. The smoke blocked my view. Coughing violently, I grabbed a shirt from the dresser and holding it over my mouth and nose with one hand, I used my fist to pound on the glass window with the other hand. Yellow and orange flames danced on the wall, mocking my feeble attempt.

And then it hit me in the gut like a cannon ball.

The obituary.

My death. It was happening. The date was wrong in the newspaper, but what did that matter now? The obituary said that I died in a fire six days before my 18th birthday. But the newspaper had used my real last name—Porter. I didn't understand and didn't take the time to reflect.

This was my destiny, to come to the past and die alone. Without seeing my dad, grandparents, Laredo or Merrick ever again.

My dad. I couldn't leave him, I was all he had. He'd never gotten over my mother, but this would finish off what was left of him emotionally. He probably thought I was dead anyway.

I opened my mouth to let out a scream of rage, and instead inhaled a mouthful of smoke. Barking out the smoke, I dropped the shirt, and beat wildly on the glass window with both hands. My life was not going to end like this.

It couldn't.

I wouldn't let it.

The smoke was sucking the life out of me. I collapsed to my knees. Trying hysterically to expel the vapor that was consuming me, I pounded on my chest. I couldn't breathe! My head was mush. The room was filled with smoke, and I couldn't see a thing. Hot air scorched the flesh of my throat with every breath. Dizzy and confused, I was starving for air.

I was going to die.

In a world far from my own.

Alone.

My arms gave out, and I fell; my face gave a dull slap against the floor.

Darkness was descending.

The fog in my brain forced me to welcome it.

"I love you, Dad," I breathed. One last time.

My eyes closed and I slipped away.