Don't Talk To Me | BOOK 3

two

Riley Murphy
2048

It smelt like burning wood as I stepped back inside.

Elles eyes went wide as she dragged me through the house, her grip on my arm deadly.

I knew this old house wouldn't hold up for long. With the way the wood bent whenever we walked through the house, and how the floors creaked if you got too close.

It was only a matter of time.

The kitchen burst into flames, igniting a large fire all throughout the house.

Everybody was racing outside, dropping everything.

We were taught that if we were ever caught in the crossfire, leave everything you have and run.

Elle dragged me back outside, where we were met with our family.

The old house was down to its last legs, blowing out smoke and causing the sky to turn grey.

Pieces of wood had started to collapse. It didn't help that the grass was dry and stringy either.

Glass shattered and eventually it fell.

We watched from a distance, my brother Alexander and his wife, Megan begging me to stand back.

Levi, Gage and Dakota were huddled in a corner next to Elle and Paxton.

Our home, which we'd had for only a few months, burning to the ground, turning into nothing but ash.

I almost felt sad, that this was our life. That we had gotten so used to bad things happening that it was almost routine.

I watched the flames get higher and brighter before I watched Paxton turn the sprinkler on.

We had installed one at every house, just to make sure.

Everyone was silent as we listened to the crackle of the fire in the night sky.

It was dark now, nearly time for bed. But how could we sleep knowing that our shelter is in flames?

The last time we had a fire, we lost my Aunt Penny. We escaped, but Elaine died trying to save her.

So add a little bit of PTSD into the mix and boom, trauma in the family.

"Come on, let's go!"

Walking down the street, just like before.

"What the hell are we going to do now?"

"What even caused it?"

"Why does this always happen?"

Question after question after question.

I don't know how to answer it. Sensory overload. I felt a hand slip into mine and I looked down, seeing Dakota smile up at me.

She had a line of black soot on her cheek and I wiped it away with my thumb.

"You doing okay?" She asked me. I nodded, keeping a straight face as I walked.

I never liked to show what I was feeling. From the stories I've heard my family tell, what I've gotten from that is to never say what you're feeling.