15-Crow
1101 Words
Hours later, I complained over the phone to Melanie, “You’re dad’s an asshole.”
Malanie laughed. “You’re telling me this like I didn’t already know?”
“Well s**t girl, you could have warned me! He just ate my ass out at work like I had spare hanging around somewhere,” I hissed.
With a sigh, Melanie stated, “Yeah, about that. Sorry. He can be hot-headed, but once he gives a damn about a person, anything is game.”
For the next fifteen minutes we chatted about nothing in particular, before, over the phone, I heard Crow’s voice in the background and Melanie laughed, “Speak of the Devil,” before covering the phone, I heard her muffled, “Hey dad, what’s up?” Then, “Are you drunk?”
I didn’t hear his response, but after a few seconds, Melanie murmured into the phone, “I’ll call ya later, okay?” Before I could respond, she’d hung up.
Staring down at my phone, I slowly shook my head. I’d been working the bar for a while now, and I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen Crow drunk.
Heaving a sigh, I went to check on Leo, then after showering, I climbed into bed.
Two hours later, I was on the floor in Leo’s room in our new house---having moved out of the apartment above the bar that morning-----covering him with my body as bullets ricocheted off my walls. Then, I smelled smoke.
Panic surged through me. My heart thundered in my chest as I realized the house was on fire. With a strength borne of pure terror, I picked Leo up, his small body seeming so small and fragile in my arms, I headed out into the inferno.
Smoke clogged my lungs as I stumbled through the flaming hallway, each breath a searing torment. My eyes streamed with tears, stinging like acid, but I couldn't close them, not with Leo's life hanging in the balance. His arms clung tight around my neck, his small gasps for air piercing my soul like a thousand shards of glass. The heat was unbearable, a living creature that clawed at my skin, trying to devour us whole.
The smell of burning wood and plastic invaded my nostrils, a noxious mix that made me want to retch. My eyes searched desperately for an escape, the walls closing in around us like the jaws of a beast. The flames danced a sick tango, licking at our heels, eager to consume us in their fiery embrace.
My feet felt like lead as we approached the stairs, the smoke thick and heavy, turning the air into a deadly fog. Each step down was a battle against the inferno, the heat so intense it felt like I was descending into the very pits of hell. The flames reached out, taunting us with their fiery fingers, but I held my ground, my grip on Leo unyielding.
As we reached the bottom, the door to the outside was a beacon of hope, a stark contrast to the hell that surrounded us. The wood was blackened and the metal handle was hot to the touch, but I didn't care. I turned the knob and threw it open, the cold night air a sweet relief from the blazing heat.
The world outside was a blur of red and blue lights, the wail of sirens piercing the night. I stumbled forward, my vision swimming, until a strong pair of arms caught me. A firefighter, his face obscured by a mask, took Leo from me, and for the first time since the ordeal had begun, I allowed myself to collapse into the arms of a stranger, sobbing uncontrollably.
The world spun around me as the oxygen mask was placed over my nose and mouth, the coolness a stark contrast to the heat that still clung to my skin. The fire raged on, the house we had called home now nothing but a skeletal frame, a tomb of memories lost to the insatiable hunger of the flames.
Leo was safe, that much was clear, but the question of why this had happened, the who and the why, burned in my mind like the fire had burned through our house. I knew it was no accident; the bullet holes in the walls were a grim reminder of the danger we were in. The Serpents had struck, and they hadn't been subtle about it.
As the firefighters worked to extinguish the flames, I sat on the curb, Leo clutched tightly to my side, the cold concrete a stark reminder of the reality we now faced. We had nothing left but the clothes on our backs and the name Hampton that seemed to bring us nothing but pain.
The fire trucks and police cars created a bullhorn of sound and light, and all I could do was hold Leo close and try to make sense of the chaos surrounding us.
"Ma'am, do you know how this fire started?" a gruff voice asked from somewhere above the din.
I looked up through the fog of my thoughts to see a concerned firefighter with a notepad in hand. "I-I don't know," I stuttered, the horror of the night still clinging to me like the smoke. "We were sleeping, and then..." The words caught in my throat as I relived the terror.
"Bullets," Leo whispered, his eyes wide and haunted. "They shot our house."
The firefighter's gaze sharpened, and he jerked his head towards the house. "You're saying someone shot at you before the fire started?"
"Yes," I confirmed, my voice stronger now. "I heard them, and then the smoke."
The firefighter nodded grimly and spoke into his radio. "We've got a potential arson case here with shots fired. Secure the area and notify the arson unit."
As he turned to leave, a black motorcycle pulled up, the engine purring like a prowling panther. The rider, a man with a leather vest adorned with the Renegade Riders' emblem, dismounted and approached.
"Ocean, Leo," he said, his voice tight with concern. It was Rouger, one of Crow's right-hand men. "You okay?"
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Leo buried his face in my shoulder, his little body trembling with the aftershock of fear.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, and punching a button, he waited a few seconds until the person on the other end picked up. “Ocean’s place got torched.” Then hanging up, he looked at me and stated, "Crow's on his way. And he ain’t gonna be happy, either."
- Writer
