Burned(58)

Straining my ears, I wait to see if I hear anything else and when another thunk sounds from down below, I quickly pull myself out of the tub and grab the clean towel I threw on the floor. Drying myself off as fast as I can, I grab my short black robe from the back of the bathroom door and slip it on, tying the belt around my waist. I figure its Collin downstairs since I told him to just come over as soon as he got off work. In my haste to get down to him, I forget that the front door was locked and he doesn’t have a key. Eager to see him again, my nose doesn’t register the cloying, faintly sweet, noxious scent drifting around the corner until I’m stepping into living the room and it’s too late. The smell is so strong that I almost wonder why I can’t see it floating in the air around me.
When my brain finally registers the scent, fear takes ahold of me like a pair of shackles around my ankles. I jerk to a stop in the doorway of the living room expecting to see a monster straight out of my nightmares standing right in front of me. When I see nothing but the empty room, hope blossoms in my chest. Maybe it’s not what I think it is. The front door is standing wide-open, shards of split wood sticking out from the doorframe where it was kicked in. Twenty or so feet to freedom, to fresh air that will clear the fuzziness from my head and the exhaustion I suddenly feel. The fumes filling the room are starting to blur my vision, making the ground look like it’s tilting at an awkward angle and the walls look like they’re melting. I want to close my eyes to stop the room from spinning. My whole body feels weightless, and I have to fight the urge to curl up on the soft carpet at my feet and fall asleep.
A small voice inside my head starts to scream, shaking me out of the chemical high.
RUN, Finnley. RUN!
I force my feet to move, taking a few slow steps towards the door. I can see the railings of the front porch, the green grass of the yard, the sidewalk at the curb and a car parked across the street. I can make it. In just a few seconds I’ll be out there where I can breathe again. I can run to the neighbor’s house and call Collin.
The thought of Collin gives me the strength I need to run. I need to get to him.
My feet stumble as the room continues to sway but I keep going. Just a little bit further and Collin will be there. He’ll make all of this go away.
I’m sure I look like I’m drunk, tripping and veering from side to side as I hustle to freedom, but I don’t care. I need to get out of this house.
Ten feet.
Five feet.
Three feet.
I’m almost there. I can feel a soft breeze blow through the door and a smile lights up my face as I pause to breathe in the fresh air.
I shouldn’t have stopped. I should have kept going.
Two feet from freedom and a body steps out from the kitchen doorway, blocking my escape. The fist comes towards my face so fast I don’t have time to block it or brace myself.
Pain explodes through my cheek, radiating up to my temple until I see nothing but blackness as I feel my body falling.
Down
Down
Down it goes until it lands on the soft carpet.
The pain in my face and head swallows all of my thoughts and I let the darkness wash over me.

THE SMELL HITS my consciousness first. Something about it tickles my senses and reminds me that it’s wrong. It shouldn’t be here and I shouldn’t still be breathing it, but I can’t remember why.
As I blink my eyes into focus, a stabbing pain on the right side of my face has me slowly dragging my arm across the carpet and up to my cheek, cupping my face in my hand to try and stop the hurt. I can feel my heart beat thumping through the pain in my cheek and each pulse magnifies the ache and brings tears to my eyes.
I move my hand away from my face and press my palms flat against the ground, pushing myself up to my knees. As soon as I’m upright, the pain in my head and on the side of my face intensifies and I whimper.