There are sounds that don’t belong to any world you want to live in.
The splinter of glass shattering like a scream.
The distant wail of sirens, closing in fast...too fast.
And fists pounding against your front door like the end of the world is on the other side.
At first, I thought I was dreaming. That my brain had conjured the sound out of leftover fear, leftover hormones, leftover everything. My body jolted upright like a puppet cut from strings, tangled in sweat-damp sheets, my heart trying to escape through my ribs.
But the smell…
That wasn’t a dream.
Burnt.
Chemical.
Wrong.
The sirens weren’t in my head either.
They were real.
So was the banging.
“Brielle! Open up! It’s Rosa!”
That got me moving.
I flung the covers back and bolted from bed, barefoot, heartbeat already
