Truth [An Aaron Tveit Fanfiction]

Sixteen: Flames

My heart was in my throat and threatening to go higher.

I took in the running people, the screaming people and the crying people. All these grown men and women brought down to the minds of children; the frightened and terrified minds of cowardice.

“Its just a little flame . . .” I whispered to myself.

My eyes flickered from the faces and the café, threatening to crumble into itself. I thought of the interior of the building; there was a fire extinguisher case on the right hand side of the entrance about twelve feet in.

My brother was in there and no one even knew . . . I knew Michael was in there and I knew where to go. I don’t think; I act; although, that isn’t always a bad thing.

A memory snapped in my head.

I was sitting in the living room with my Dad; Michael was coloring in the kitchen. We were watching the news on the Columbine shooting, me sitting on the floor while he was alert on the couch. We had sat in silence, both scared and nervous to speak first.

“Would you run or would you do something- do something crazy?” he asked hesitantly. “Would you jump in front of a friend; because you know you don’t always have to be the hero . . .” I had turned around and looked at him; I didn’t think.

“I would do something crazy; I would help.” I swallowed hard. “Why?”

“Cause I would want you to run.” He looked ashamed. “I would what you to come home.” I had turned away and looked at back at the TV screen, unable to hold his gaze.

I blinked and the burning building was racing towards me.

All I saw was blurs and orange. My feet and gut led me; I was blind. I clung to the right wall, running; feeling for the metal handle and glass panel of the case. I fumbled and gripped at the narrowed curved metal until it turned in my favor. My eyes burned as I reached for the extinguisher and felt something soft . . . My mind spun and grasped for any knowledge that would tell me the identity of the object.

Blanket.

I blinked quickly as it became a habit with the smoke and the heat that seemed to be searing off my skin. Correction; was painfully itching not searing or burning.

I grabbed the corner of the cloth and pulled the pin of the extinguisher. My eyes widened as waves of heat threaten to knock me to my knees and choke me with their smoke. I coughed and gagged as I grabbed onto any table for stability and for something to separate me from the flames that seemed to be licking closer and closer to me.

Stumbling with a heaving chest, I suddenly had the devil on my left shoulder.

Why are you doing this? You’re going to die, you’re an idiot, and you can’t do this. I pushed forward and tired not to cough up my weakening smoke-ill lungs; I felt as if I were suffocating.