The life of a half angel

The attack

I wake up with a funny feeling, sweaty and short of breath. I sit up when I feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise. Something feels off. The smell is the first thing I notice. It smells like ash and smoke, burning wood and melting plastic. I stare at my bedroom door and see how tendrils of smoke make their way underneath it and into my room. Throwing my blanket aside, I run towards the door. The handle is slightly warm but still manageable. I pull the door open and run down the stairs. This is where I find the source of the smoke. There are glass shards in the living room and the smell of gasoline is distinctive. The furniture is up in flames, making me panic as I desperately search for help to kill the fire. Yet there is no saving it. The flames rise higher and higher at an alarming rate. I stumble backwards as the smoke gets thicker and almost slip over some liquid. I gasp when red blood stains my bare feet. The smoke causes a coughing spree. I kneel to find my mother's unconscious body. There is an empty bucket next to her, my guess is she tried to put out the fire. She might have tripped and fell. I hook my arms underneath her armpits and drag her out of the room, trying to find a way out. The doors are barricaded with bookcases and the windows are locked off beyond opening. Someone planned the fire, someone who wants us to die. I keep coughing and drag my mother up the stairs. My arms are aching. My room seems to be the only safe option but the smoke makes it hard to reach. Fear creeps into my veins. Can we survive this fire? Or are we going to die of smoke poisoning? How long will it take for someone to find us? Besides Stacy, only a handful of people know where we live, so we can’t count on help right now. Will people be met with our remains? Bones and charred flesh? That sounds horrible!

I open my bedroom door with a kick and give my mother's body another good pull. I close the door behind us to delay the flames, but the smoke still finds a way underneath it. The window gives some fresh air and I thank the goddess for my luck to leave the window open at night. I love falling asleep with a breeze. I lay my mother on the rug and walk towards the window. Looking down, I see a pile of raked leaves but know the fall could break bones or worse. I turn around and realize we are out of options. The sound of crackling flames becomes louder as it swallows the door in flames. Something breaks in the adjacent room. I pull my still unconscious mother onto my back and start to climb the window sill and sit down on the edge. The moment of truth. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I take the jump. My feet barely hit the ground as we fall. My mother rolls over onto her back and into the nearest tree. I hear her groaning, meaning she is still alive. I start checking my body piece by piece. First, my fingers, then my arms and legs. I hold back a scream when I move my left leg. Hot pain flashes through it like lightning. Tears threaten to stain my cheeks. "Come on Alyssa, be strong" I murmured to myself, it's probably just heavily bruised. My mother turns on her back while coughing and tries to push herself up straight. Her eyes go big when she sees the house in flames. The flames are even higher than the roof. This is of no natural cause. I crawl on my hands and knees and take a seat against the bark of a thick tree, the same one my mother crashed into a minute earlier. My mother sits back as well while trying to breathe carefully. She has the same kind of look in her eyes I was sure I had when I discovered the fire, a look of pure terror. I crawled closer to my mother and lay my head on her shoulder. It takes a while to get us both to calm down, at least enough to function.

The heat of the fire blazes onto my face and arms, it is almost scorching yet just bearable. My mother breaks the silence by saying incoherent things like: “found us” and “run”. It takes a second to realize her true words. Running? Where to? This is our house, our lives. We have nothing left without it. Am I able to leave everything behind? And who are they? The ones that found us? What the hell is happening here? We rise from our seats and start walking. My ankle is still throbbing like crazy but we have no choice but to keep on moving. No one says a thing, we just keep on going. The sun starts to rise in the distance as I keep walking in automatic movements. My mother is right, if someone started the fire, then maybe they are still around somewhere to finish the job. And we were stupid enough to stay seated for almost 15 minutes. We have to get out of there. Somewhere far away, somewhere safe. I give my mother a once over. Her hair is dishevelled, and her face and clothes are stained and bruised. Every step feels excruciating, yet I keep on going. Our hike brought us to the doorstep of Caitlin's house.

Caitlin is the only one my mother fully trusts besides me. She sees us coming through the kitchen window and runs outside. She helps my mother get into the house and guides her to the black leather sofa close to the door. I stumble in behind them and take a seat as well. The stress and pain are demanding their toll on my mother as sleep takes hold of her quickly. For me, there is no way I can fall asleep. Adrenaline is still coursing through my veins. I keep looking outside in case someone has followed us here. My eyes become heavy when Caitlin drapes a soft and warm blanket over my body. She pats my head in a soft motion and sits on a brown leather seat. "Why don't you take some rest, sweets, I will guard you until you wake again. You are safe here”. Everything seems peaceful here. The birds start to sing with the rising of the sun and the flowers open their buds slowly. I laugh at myself. One second you are sound asleep and the next you jump out of a window of a burning house. I guess this counts as a legit reason to skip math homework.

Remembering Stacy, I sit back up. Someone has to tell her about the fire. I have to tell her not to pick me up in the morning, maybe never again. These words haunt my mind. My mother will start talking about moving the second she wakes up. Caitlin notices my reluctance to sleep and walks to the kitchen. I follow her but stay in the doorframe. I watch as she pulls the lid of a can of chicken soup and pours it into a pan. "You know… whatever happened to you guys is tough but you need to sleep to strengthen up," she says while stirring the soup. "Is there anything on your mind I can help you with?" It is like she feels the questions in my mind. She turns to me. Her eyes are full of compassion. "Well, for starters I need to go to school later today." I spill the words quickly before my courage disappears. She raises a brow and lets out a soft chuckle. "You are not that kind of nerd that focuses solely on school are you?" I know how important education is for Caitlin, especially as she has never had some. "I don't think your mom would like it if I send you to school right now honey.” For a second, I wonder if she knows more about this situation than I do, but I shake it off. "It is just for 4 hours. We are close to the finals and I really want my diploma." She frowns, not believing me, yet she raises her hands in defeat. "Okay, but only as long as you agree to take a designated driver of my choice and come back right after." She walks to the landline's phone next to the door and pushes some buttons before answering the phone. I walk to the bathroom to clean up and find some clean clothes on a brown chair. I change into them and let out a deep sigh, glad my ankle is getting better with the second, or so it feels. The brown leather chair sits nice and comfy as I wait for the designated driver. I wonder if I know him or her. The chair is placed perfectly to oversee the entire front garden. It makes me feel a bit safer. Caitlin lives in an old Victorian house with big windows and a lot of colorful furniture. It looks a bit like our house yet bigger. There are trinkets everywhere of old travels from across the globe. She often tells us about her travels. I love the stories. It makes me want to travel as well. The feeling of freedom with every step you take. I grab my yellow-cased iPhone and call Stacy. Voicemail. Great, just what I need. She is going to freak out when she arrives at our house. I leave a quick message and tell her how I need to speak to her. I promise to tell her everything in person and hang up. My gaze wanders back to the front garden like I will find my answers by just staring.