Heiress in Distress

•Prologue•

With the horrendous sight before me, my imagination fails to picture what might be happening behind that door. Muffled voices fade into the background but a hand I've grown more familiar to its touch by the day once again falls onto my shoulder.

"I'm sorry but you have to move" Andrew says.

What is he apologizing for ? Where are my parents ? There's no way they're in there.
Through a blurry vision, I regard their bedroom door.

The thought of grabbing the doorknob and barging in is interrupted by an angry flame causing a piece of wood to tumble from the ceiling and land a few inches away from my flip-flopped feet, which has me gasping and stumbling backwards.

"Your mother said to take your sister and go" He says, sounding more urgent than apologetic.
At the mention of my mother, I manage to pull myself out of my stupor and l'm staring at blue eyes once again -harbouring a gaze full of a mix of both, sympathy and apology.

He's sorry my parents left. They've probably left. They must've sensed the fire, woken up and left. Yeah that's it. My head is nodding on its own, willing me to believe my own suppositions.

The nest is once again thrusted into my arms and this time, I'm a bit more awaken, guided by the urgency of the situation.
Surprisingly, I do move with the baby in my forearms towards the fire escape before another thought has me stopping in my tracks,

"Hey what about you? Shouldn't you be out of here too?" I can see the frustration in his expression at my inability to follow simple orders.

"There's something I have to take care of and then I'll leave. Now go!" But I don't. I remain rooted to my spot.
What if he doesn't make it ? What if the-

"Please, go. I'm right behind you. I promise"
He pleads, shoving me only slightly so I can move.

With a heart heavier than ever, I take my first receding step while still looking at him, taking into the picture all the fire viciously singeing every inch of the house around him. Everything's charred, nothing to salvage.

How will you ever escape this, Andrew ?

I think he senses my reluctance because he closes the few steps between us and plants a kiss to the crown of my head.

"Go, I'm right behind you" He repeats this, in a tone he seems to use to convince himself more than to convince me, with his forehead pressed against mine.

Nodding, I turn around and sprint towards the fire escape, and this time, I do not look back until I'm in the backseat of the SUV Andrew spoke of earlier.

But when the car roars to life and the driver shifts the gear to drive, I'm quick to reach over and grip his shoulder.

"We're waiting for Andrew" I tell him.
He complies, reshuffling the gear stick back to park. There's a safe distance between the car and the house, which is promising.
My leg begins to bounce up and down.

I'm still looking out the window when a thud against the opposite window has my head sharply turning and the driver rolling the window down.

"What are you doing ?! You have to move!" The man, I recognize as the one who stood by the baby's room holding the baby's nest, yells at the driver.

"We're waiting for Andrew" I tell him, refocusing my attention on the house once again, anticipating Andrew's advent.
My stomach clenches and unclenches rhythmically.

"Andrew is not riding with you. His car is parked by the curb" He says, regaining my attention. My chest inflates when I spot his car, parked a yard or two away from ours.

"What about my parents ? What car did they ride on?" When I ask him this, his eyes drop to floor, his head hanging for a few seconds.

I wait for him to answer, refusing to believe the stupid conclusions my mind is weaving.

"I'm sorry-" He begins, avoiding my gaze by all means.

"No" A voice croaks; is it mine ?
My stomach sinks.

"We received the emergency call from your father's phone but there was no answer from his side, so we drove here immediately" His words barely register through the haze of black out inclination.

My chest hurts, there's a frantic rise and fall to it, but it's the feeling of my insides collapsing that has me probing further.

"What does that mean ?" My words are choked out.

"They're obviously gone. There's no trace of them-"

"They left! I know they did! They left because of the fire" At this point, I'm already crying, hands trembling with a new found devastation.
He shakes his head throughout the whole rant.

"That's not possible. We got the call from this address, arrived in record time, and made it for your parents' room in time to... to find..."
He stumbles over his own words, his hands gripping the car's door harder.

"To find what ?!" I unintentionally snap, driven by the fear of his answer.

"Blood" He finishes. The metaphorical punch actually knocks the air out of my lungs.

"There was blood all over the floor, but there was no trace of their bodies. It was enough evidence for us to settle our attention and efforts on rescuing you and the baby" His explanation doesn't make it to my comprehension. Only one word does.

Blood. Blood.

The word repeats itself within the confines of my consciousness, sending a distinctively pungent smell into my nose. Blood.

One would think I was mentally prepared for this, for my parents to disappear one day from my life for good, according to their nature of work. I can't bring myself to identify their disappearance as something else.

••••

Hello Everyone, this is another project which I hope I won't bail on.

Constructive feedback is what'll help me get through this, so let me know what you think in the comments.

Thanks in advance (=

-Asia