Hell.

I'm in Hell.

There's no other way to describe it.

This is a place that most men would run away from, a place where all living things flee. Even now I can see a spider on the ceiling, moving rapidly, trying to escape the flames that threaten it.

But I don't have that luxury.

Vernalee is inside here and I have to get her out.

When I woke up, it was to Rachel yelling, screaming and I was so sure that it was a horrible nightmare that I almost went back to sleep. Then I remembered that she had fallen asleep in my bed and when I opened my eyes and looked for her, she was gone.

In fact, the whole room was bathed in a horrible, flickering light, my ears finally tuning into the sound of thunder and crackling flames and that's when I knew something terrible had happened.

I got out of bed and saw the burning house, saw Rachel's figure inside, her silhouette so stark against those red, hot flames. For a sickening moment, I thought maybe it was too late, maybe she was burning alive right in front of me.

She wasn't.

I ran in and got her out and went back in to get her mother.

Only now, as I stand here and the world is collapsing around me, my body boiling to a million degrees, my eyes feeling like they're being sucked out of my skull, I know that I might not make it back out there.

Vernalee might not either, but that won't stop me from trying.

"Vernalee!" I yell but my voice is caught and I cough, the smoke filling my lungs. I squint, hovering down close to the ground, trying to find the cooler air. "Vernalee!"

There's no answer. Or if there is, I can’t hear it over the roar of the flames. The sound of the wood being consumed is a deafening, alien-like crackle that floods the ears.

Both sides of her door are covered in flames and they are spreading inside the room like a violent disease, intent on getting her. I know I have to go in there if I want to get her out and already I feel the hair on my bare arms and legs getting singed, my eyelashes too.

The couch is starting to smoke but there's a doily resting on the arm, so I grab that and hold it over my nose and mouth, trying to filter out the smoke.

Here it goes.

I take in a deep breath and close my eyes, running through the flames into her room. They lick at me, burning my skin but then I'm through, her room already filled with thick smoke, like something forgotten in an oven for too long.

I cough violently, making my way over to the bed where she's lying in her nightgown.

Motionless.

"Vernalee," I try and croak before my lungs seize. I erupt into a coughing fit that nearly takes me out and I stagger forward, my fingers going for her neck. She's breathing, she still has a pulse, but she won't for long.

I pick her up in my arms, carrying her around the bed. The door is completely engulfed now and there's no way we can get out alive that way.

I move to her window, already open from earlier in an attempt to beat the heat, and see my father and Rachel on the other side.

He pushes Rachel back and comes running forward, even as flames start spreading from the roof, coming down by the window, lashing out at him, attempting to block the only way out.

But we have no choice.

I can't speak but I hold onto Vernalee and push the window pane the rest of the way up, then as carefully and quickly as possibly I lift up Vernalee higher and pass her through.

She collapses into Hank's arms and if I could breathe a sigh of relief I would. She's out of the fire. But from the way my father is staring down at her, feeling for her pulse, I'm not sure if she's going to okay after all.

"Vernalee," he cries out, taking her away from the house as Rachel runs over sobbing. She looks up at me and says, "Shane, get out of there!"

I nod, almost frozen, my lungs don't even seem to work anymore, there' s no air, just thick black smoke that fills me up and up until there's nowhere for it to go.

I waver on my feet for a second, holding Rachel's eyes.

My father is performing CPR on Vernalee.

My world is just fire and flames and that horrible roar of consumption.

Then I manage to snap out of it, slowly, like a sick man getting out of bed, and I try to climb through the window.

Flames reach down from above, a blast of hellish heat that sends me backward onto the floor.

Then there's a CRASH as the rafters behind me fall down, smashing onto the bed, sending up more sparks and smoke my way.

Then there's another CRASH.

A slice of burning pain on my shoulder as part of the ceiling falls on me.

I try to scream but everything is singed and raw inside me. The impact knocks me to the floor, the cool floor, and I rest my cheek against it, closing my eyes, relishing this feeling. I know it will be the last good feeling I'll ever have, this beautifully cool floor.

No.

No, my last good feeling is of Rachel.

Rachel who is so close but far away.

Safe.

I love you, I think to myself.

My heart slows, my lungs start to slog.

I don't have much more in me.

Then I hear a yell, far off, a new voice. Low, commanding, in control.

Fox.

It's Fox.

I hear the smash of wood and glass and then arms around me hauling me up, pulling me out of the fire.

But I'm still so hot, so hot, every part of me is cooked.

"Shane." A slap at my face. "Shane, can you hear me?"

Somehow, I manage to open my eyes and at first all I see is white and maybe this is heaven and then Fox's face comes into view and I know he wouldn't be there, so I'm wrong.

He removes his mask, peers down at me. "Hey little brother," he says to me. "Stay with me, okay? You're safe, you're going to be okay."

His voice is completely steadfast and strong, confident. It gives me confidence.

I open my mouth to speak but I can't.

"Don't try," Fox says as a pair of hands give him an oxygen tank and he puts the mask over my mouth. "Focus on me," he says. "Watch what I do. Breathe in," he breathes in, "breathe out. Do it Shane. In and out."

I try and end up coughing, my lungs as tight as a fist.

"Take your time, okay?" he says, taking in a deep breath again to show me. "In and out. Slowly."

I try again. Air, pure clean air starts to fill my lungs until soon I'm gulping it like water.

"That's it," Fox says, resting his hand on my good shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "You're doing good. Keep it going."

And I do, lying on my back, staring up at my older brother and the dark clouds above him. I blink. I swear a bit of water just fell in my eye.

Fox looks up at the sky and then back to me, smiles. "You felt that huh? Rain. That'll make our job easier."

Then Rachel's face comes over my vision, tears pouring down her face.

I reach up for her and she takes my hand.

I want to tell her I'm okay but I don't think that's why she's crying.

She's crying from pure panic.

I roll my head over to see a couple of firefighters giving Vernalee CPR.

My father holds her hand as they do so.

He's crying.

Sobbing.

"Please don't leave me," he cries out to her. "Please don't leave me Vernalee. I love you. I love you, I love you. This isn't the end. This is only the beginning. God, please, this is supposed to be the beginning."

My breath hitches in my throat, not from the smoke, but from the noose around my heart.

My poor father. My poor Rachel.

"Vernalee," he cries out, kissing her palm as his tears spill down. "You can't go. You can't go. This was supposed to be our second chance."

I look back up at Rachel. She's covering her face in her hands, my grandpa now beside her, putting his arm around her. I meet Fox's eyes and his are watering too.

He gives me a tense smile. "Keep breathing, Shane. You're going to be okay."

But even as he says that, I see him frown at me.

Then my eyes start to roll back in my head as pain, exquisite pain, starts to tear through my body.

I cough and gulp for air, my heart beat slowing and slowing until I think it's covered in quicksand, and then Fox is yelling for someone, sounding panicked now.

I take in a breath but I don't think it does any good.

Everything goes black.

My world goes quiet.

And cold.