Chapter 5 – Fire and Flames

Shivers running down her spine and her little hand reaching out, towards the chaos in the yard and jet, she felt so hopeless. Never had she felt so at rock bottom, like a defeated solider. Down, lost and depleted of all hope.

 "Just why is this happening?" she wondered, when the red bracelet jingled around her waist. She looked at it, somehow it drew her in.

 Unknowingly to the girl, step by step she creeped out from the desk and placed her hand on the window, standing in the room.

 "Mom? Dad?" They were fighting. Sounds of shattering, shots and screams deafened her ears. Page was about to turn around when an explosion roared through the sky. Her little body was knocked over, and glass shards grazed her skin, cut her flesh.

 Yellow and red fingers reached up the walls, a blinding fume, and the screams of people were all too present. Page, who lied on the floor like a doll, shattered and bloody, didn't even move one finger.

 Her chest fell and lifted in a faint way. The flames reached higher and the smoke polluted the air. She was just lying there, while the flames reached out. Closer. Even closer to her, yet she didn't move.

 Like this the moments passed, where it looked like it was the end for the little rose, that had yet to bloom. And as all hope seemed lost and a flame was millimeters away, her eyes moved. A faint red light shone from her wrist. It looked magical, but barely visible in the sea of flames. Then a finger, and with time her whole body returned from its idle state.

 Her legs were wobbly, and little pink-colored streams ran along her white skin. "This can't be…" page looked at herself, unknowing how much time had passed and what had happened. "Who?"

 She was standing there, for a second, she didn't know anything. "Where am I? Who?"

 She looked around, and saw the desk. The destruction patched her memory up. And with seconds, her memory retuned. The girl stood there.

 "Why?" She could remember what happened. She remembered the fear, the pain. Even though all these thoughts were present and so close, they at the same time felt so far away.

 "Why?" She didn't feel any pain, even though her wounds were bleeding and open. She couldn't feel the fear and horror. It was like there was just herself, just facts and no emotion.

 The girl stood there, thinking, doing nothing. Then a crash, splinters of burning wood were flung against her. She returned to her senses.

 "Mom! Dad!" She screamed, and her voice rang louder through the courtyard than any gun or scream.

 Her dad looked up to her. He just smiles. Then a knife is flung into his shoulder. With his mouth, he forms the words. "Save her. Your sister!"

 The girl, tearing up, turned and ran out the door. Flames had engulfed the corridor right and left.

 Her feet carried the body as fast as they could, but the heat and flames made her step become unstable. She tumbled right and slammed into a white wall. Her hand, used to catch the fall, left a stain of blood and scratched along the wall as Page continued her sprint. She had no shoes on her feet, the rug felt fuzzy and unclean.

 There the boot-sound was heard behind her. She jerked her head and her eyes focused on a woman. Her hair was brown, and she held a small sliver knife in her hand. Instantly, Page turned to the font. To look at where she was going. Her lounges felt like they wanted to tear apart, so hard did the little girl run.

 It was only two doors away, the room where she had left her sister. She knew that she had to sneak past that woman to get out of here safely, which she judged to be hopeless. And Page knew when to run, trust, or give-up. She was sure, getting past that woman by speed was impossible. So, what was left?

 She felt like a mouse running into a dead end. No matter what, she knew there was no choice. She had to get her sister. No matter what, her sister had to be safe. For this Page, wanted to give it her all. She wanted to make sure.

 There were the flowers, there was the door handle. Behind the girl, the woman came closer. Page ran, but little legs were bound to lose at some point. At some point in this hell, one just couldn't and for Page this moment was now. Her legs gave way and she fell. Her blood flowed; her loughs filled with smoke. And with the boots coming closer, everything commenced.

 The sound was death, with each step it seemed as if her life was slowly taken away. It was drawing to a close, to an end it would come, page was sure. Her eyes blinked. The flames were only at the other side, here it was only the smoke. She heard shots and screams; they were loud, louder than before. Deafening, but what mattered more were the clear steps that ran closer.

 This sound – the bang, clack. – it was death. Death, a sound that one could hear in their final moments. For Page, the sound was exactly the woman's steps. Like a drill, the sound fixed itself into her brain.

 For her, she couldn't guess how everything would turn out. She really wanted to, wished and hoped to, save her sister, who had her whole life ahead of her.