14. Shanay
Fourteen
Shanay
It starts with the smell.
Something sharp. Acrid. Burning.
I pause halfway through shelving a stack of new arrivals, nose wrinkling. Then I hear it—a faint crackle. A pop. A strange hum in the ceiling.
The fire alarm doesn’t go off right away.
But I know.
I feel it.
By the time I hit the hallway, smoke is already forming along the walls.
“Everyone out!” I shout, voice shaking but loud. “Now!”
The teens at the study tables jump to their feet. A mom grabs her toddler from the storytime corner. I usher them all toward the front, breath tight, heart pounding.
“I’ve got you, keep moving,” I say. Over and over, trying to believe it.
The smoke thickens fast.
There’s coughing. Crying. Panic all around.
I get them to the exit—shove the door open—and push the last kid through just as the first siren wails in the distance.
I’m about to follow.
I should follow.
But I think I hear something.
I turn back—step into the hallway—
And then the ceiling groans.
Everything goes black for a second.
Something crashes behind me, blocking the way out. Smoke rushes in like a wave.
I cover my mouth.
Try not to scream.
Try not to collapse.
The world spins.
I drop to the ground, crawl toward what I think is the back exit.
The smoke is too thick. My eyes burn.
I can’t see.
Can’t breathe.
Is this it?
Tears mix with sweat and ash.
My chest tightens. My arms shake.
And then the thought hits me.
I’ll never see him again.
I’ll never get to tell him I wasn’t walking away from him—I was walking for myself.
That I wanted to come back.
That I missed him.
That I still wanted more.
The air’s too thin now.
My arms give out.
I’m sorry, Mike.
I’m so sorry—
And then I hear it.
“Shanay!”
It’s faint. Low and desperate.
My ears are playing tricks on me.
My brain’s already giving up.
“Baby, where are you!”
I blink. Cough. Try to lift my head.
It sounds too real.
Too close.
“Shanay—talk to me!”
I choke on the smoke—but manage a sound. Something like a sob. Something like his name.
Then suddenly—
Hands.
Big ones. Strong. Rough. Real.
He’s here.
He hauls me into his arms like I weigh nothing. Wraps me in his shirt, shielding my face, and charges back through the smoke with me pressed to his chest.
I can’t talk. Can’t think.
But I can feel.
The arms around me.
The heartbeat in his chest.
He came for me .