James
Michael, pallid and sweating, won’t meet my eye. I could punch him and smile about it, and he knows it, but this isn’t the time.
With Charlotte on the penthouse floor of the building, flames taking hold somewhere below, and Michael’s instruction to her to remain where she is, it is only a matter of time before she is trapped beyond rescue.
Fucking i***t….
And because in our headlong rush from the apartment we both left without our phones, we have no way to contact her.
As my imagination cries havoc, I battle the terror for her that rises in me, unbidden, unwelcome….
Flames…
Heat….
Burning….
…. Smoke, choking fumes….
Trapped….
Jade….
Don’t panic….
…. You’re no good to her if you panic….
We sprint up a flight of stairs, the sound of heated, rushing air growing louder arou
