I sunk to the ground and whispered, “Aubrey, the door. It’s locked. I can’t get it open.”
Another whimper.
“Peaches,” I coughed. “Where are the keys?”
All I heard was, “Dad.”
Everything clicked then. The weird phone call. The anger on the other line. How weird Jay had been acting.
Her father was a fucking psychopath.
We all knew it. We just didn’t know it to this extent. I crawled farther down the hallway to another door. This one was unlocked and as I opened the door and crawled in, I realized the air wasn’t saturated with smoke but with the smell of alcohol. I welcomed it as I gasped and gasped until I could stand.
That’s when I saw Frank—passed out facedown on his bed—completely oblivious to the chaos engulfing his home. A bottle of Macallan was tipped over next to him, and it looked like only a few drops had made it onto the floor rather than down his throat.
Finding those keys had to be my top priority, even as I considered pummeling him over the head with that empty bottle. I snatched them from his pocket and turned to make my way back to Aubrey.
Some might hope I thought over my choices, weighed leaving a man to die, or that I considered my decision.
I didn’t.
The only hope I had for him was that he burned to death.
I took my shirt off, put it over my nose and ran back to the locked door. I unlocked it and shoved it open. She was curled up by the door, her face too swollen to even see her eyes. Her mother’s face was worse, if possible. I picked Peaches up and whispered, “I got you.” Then to her mother, I yelled, “Let’s go!”
The woman just paced back and forth in front of the window that was barred on the inside. “He will come. He will come,” she mumbled.
The smoke invaded the room like a snake of fury. It slithered in, ready to attack any space it could. I kept beckoning to Aubrey’s mother, but she wasn’t snapping out of whatever the fuck was wrong with her.
With Aubrey still in my arms, I lunged in front of her mother’s pacing. Her dark eyes clashed with mine and I saw recognition ignite in them.
“My husband didn’t come?” She all but accused me.
I just shook my head and coughed out, “We have to get out of here.”
She glanced at her daughter in my arms and a silent plea passed between them. It was the first time I saw Aubrey really communicate with her mother. I noticed the fake conversations she had with her in front of us all the time, the poised looks, and the hollow smiles.
This time, I felt her body curl in on itself and saw her clenching her fists. Then, she spread her fingers like they might give her the courage she needed. Aubrey’s green eyes widened, even with the swelling around them. They held determination and strength through pain. And I’d be damned if they didn’t beg her mother to feel the strength too. The look warped to bleeding desperation though, as we both saw the resignation in her mother’s eyes.
Aubrey reached her arm out and started to lean toward the fire and her mother, who was backing away from both of us into it. “No, Mom. Don’t.”
Her mother’s eyes snapped to mine. “Take care of her.”
With that, she darted out of the room and down the hallway.
Then, Aubrey started screaming. She was a daughter losing her mother and she fought me like it.
I ran for the front door, opposite the direction her mother went. I didn’t waste energy comforting her. I saved it to keep her safe, all while she wailed on me and squirmed to go after her parents. The maze of flames had grown, and I decided to make a run right through it.
We burst through the front door, Aubrey crying in my arms, fire trucks pulling up, and my mother crying on the front lawn. I dropped to my knees on the grass beside her, and we exchanged knowing glances. She must have seen something in my expression because instead of crying tears of joy that we’d made it out alive, she laid her hand on Aubrey’s cheek and shushed the screams coming from her.
That night, those screams ricocheted through my very being and they became the ones that haunted my sanity, making me question everything. I kept hold of her until she calmed down.
Paramedics continued to check our vitals and ask questions. I would never remember what they asked me, but I remember staring at that house. I remember the crackle and popping of wood that descended once Aubrey stopped screaming.
She didn’t look at me, and I didn’t look at her.
We stared at the house, and I felt my mom wipe tears from my eyes when firefighters appeared with two bodies, neither of which looked like they had life in them.
“She left us, just for him,” Aubrey said. Her voice cracked and sounded numb, void of emotion. It didn’t sound like her at all. Her mother’s decision had changed her.
My decision changed me too. I left both of Aubrey’s parents to die to save her. I left them to burn to death, and I felt void of guilt.
That was the day I realized I’d do anything for that girl.
It was the day I realized I loved her.