Meatless Monday, December fifth, 2011. The day that will turn into a total disaster. The lunch room of Fireflame High was filled to the brim with chatter and commotion, when the fire alarm began to shriek. Hundreds of children rushed to escape the school.
The cafeteria was on the second floor of the building and the stairwell was aflame with fire. Helicopters circled the school airlifting as many children as they could. Only hours before, downstairs in a conference room, I was enjoying my lunch when the silence finally got to me.
Three years ago I let a bunch of wild ducks free in the library, and ever since I have had to eat lunch in an empty conference room. At first I did not mind the ...view middle of the document...
The name of the school had to have given them some sanity, but the children would never forget the fire. The picture in their minds of the endless flames that engulfed the poor souls of their classmates would last forever.
Personally, I had no attachment to anyone in the school, so I shouldn't have been bothered by the many deaths. Most of the funerals were not very upsetting, except for one. The girl was only eight and nobody knew why she was in the high school. I hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, especially not a child of her age.
Today is December fifth, 2012. Exactly one year since the fire. On this day, the ban against any further investigation on the fire is lifted. As I am assumed to be dead, I shouldn’t have anything to worry about, but the feeling in my stomach feels very wrong.
A commercial for Christmas soap is on the t.v. when the doorbell rings, and my heart begins to race. My parents are in Florida for the winter so the person behind the door is a complete mystery. The ring comes again, and my heart beats harder. Instead of answering I run down to the basement.
From a chair in the basement, I can hear the door slowly creak open. My feeling of discomfort slides from my stomach up to my throat, and I struggle to keep my lunch down.
Footsteps echo through the narrow hallways that fill my colonial home. The footsteps get louder as they approach the basement door. A bang echoes as the locked door that kept me from whoever was in my house is shot down.
How they found me, I do not know. How I will react, I do not know either. A deep voice calls out for me, and I slowly slink out of the shadows. An armed official dressed in black stares into my green eyes. I smile, a clearly guilty smile, and the official smiles back just before he knocks me out.
Opening my eyes, the disturbing site of a jail cell bars come into view. The officer from my house walks over and explains that they need to keep me in quarantine until the investigation is over. The man says that don’t suspect me, but because of the fact that I am supposed to be dead they are slightly suspicious. The officer gives me a strange look, not to blame him, if the look on my face was even close to the feeling I am...