-Claire’s P.O.V.-
There is the smell of something burnt that creeps into my room. It’s prominent enough to disturb my sleep, becoming worse within a second of time. It is accompanied by a panicked clattering of pans and a badly concealed screech.
I rise from my bed, tossing the covers aside as I reach for my slippers with my feet. I give them a little nudge with my toes so that the bunny ears rise once they are in place, smiling softly at the familiar sight. They had been a gift from my father. He knew how much I loved animals.
Both the noise and the sound are easy to follow. It seemed as if a series of events had occurred, as the noise continues, growing only more frantic as time passes.
“Just a little, emmm.” My mother’s voice comes out hurried, frustration slipping into the
