Sixteen
Awareness slowly seeped into my mind as I stirred against the softness of cotton against my skin. My eyes felt heavy, opening ever so slowly, and I pushed myself up in bed and onto my elbows, scanning the darkness of the room. A frown itched my forehead. I felt disoriented, and it took a moment for me to realise that I was alone, in bed, at home.
Blinking, I attempted to focus on my dressing table across the room. My dress was still draped over the chair, but my vision was foggy. There appeared to be a haze surrounding my bed, and I wondered if I was still dreaming. My heart pounded as if I’d stirred from a nightmare, but I couldn’t remember any details about it.
There was a crackling noise coming from outside. Something was wrong.
Pushing myself back against the headboard, I squeezed my eyes closed before slowly opening them again, hoping that would help to clear my sight and that fuzz in my head. I held my breath until I couldn’t hold it any longer. How I wished that Mason was beside me.
There was a tightness in my throat, and I leaned over to my bedside table and took a drink of the water that sat there. It tasted old and did nothing to ease that dryness. Moistening my lips with my tongue, I put the glass down again.
My skin felt as if it were stretched over my skull, and I rubbed my hands up and down my face to wake myself up. It didn’t usually take me so long to come around, but it was dark outside and it wasn’t yet morning.
As I inhaled and peeled back the covers, I noted something knocking, possibly in the room beneath mine. I glanced at the door to see flickering light beneath it like there was a faulty bulb on the landing of my house and it was flashing on and off.
Annoyance bled into my confusion. When I was tired, I was grouchy.
Releasing a sigh of frustration at having been awakened by some type of drama (something I hated), I drew my breath back, and a strange smell lingered. It was almost like the one from the iron when I’d left it on my shirt for too long one time—a scorching tinge. Odd .
Narrowing my eyes, I pushed out of bed, padding across my room, and reached for the door handle. I was determined to get to the bottom of things so I could get back to bed.
SHIT! I snapped back my hand at the jolt I felt through my fingers from touching the brass handle. It was like a static electric shock, but as I reattempted, this time with more care, I realised that the metal was hot.
Fear knifed into my stomach and I grabbed a scarf which was hanging on the back of my door, wrapping it around my hand for protection. Taking a deep breath, I then yanked back the door. A blast of warm air hit me in the face, and I fell backwards, the heat was overwhelming .
There was a fire, in my house. My house was on fire!
I shivered violently. Panic beating inside me like a crazed drum and a myriad of thoughts crashed into my clogged mind all at once. Nothing made any sense. My pulse was thumping within my wrists and my legs were like jelly.
The compulsion to gasp for air was unstoppable and I tried to calm myself. I knew I needed to get out of there but who else was in the house, in danger? I scanned my overprocessed thoughts and eventually accepted that there was just Chrissy and me. My parents were still away, Jenna was with Nixon at his place and Mattie was with Alex.
Chrissy, I needed to find my sister and get her to safety. Don’t panic!
“Chrissy!” I screamed down the hallway toward her room.
As I peered along the smoky corridor to where the staircase was, the light from the fire below was flickering and shadows were licking up the wall like snakes’ tongues. A long dark plume of smoke was running along the ceiling of the landing and I pushed to my feet keeping my body low. My limbs felt like they were lined with lead, everything was heavy and slow.
As well as the blood rushing through my ears, I heard more banging from downstairs and then the terrifying sound of splintering wood, hissing, and fizzing.
I raced across to Chrissy’s room and burst through the door, my eyes frantically finding her bed, but she wasn’t in there. I yelled her name again, my neck twisting this way and that. Her covers had been pulled down and so she must have gotten out of bed. But where the hell was, she? Had she left already? Thick black smoke was snaking up into the sky outside Chrissy’s window and fear gripped my throat like a fist.
I turned back toward the corridor as my legs gave out beneath me, the smoke had started to drop a level and my eyes were stinging. I almost turned my ankle and had to stretch it to allow the blood to circulate properly. I attempted to blink away that feeling, tears running down my cheeks as I crawled along the corridor to the stairs. Dragging my body.
“Chrissy,” I said weakly.
Still nothing. I moved along the floor, using my brother’s leopard crawl technique, passing my room. The stairs loomed in the distance but appeared to be getting further away with each shuffle of my body. Adrenaline pulsed through my arteries giving me that extra push of energy I needed.
I came level with the bathroom, the door was open and the room was filled with thick black smoke. Pushing along on my elbows, I saw movement near the bath which I could just make out in the smog.
“Amy!” a male voice shouted from way beneath me. Mason!
Twisting my head, I yelled up into the colourless air, “Mason, help me!” I pushed up onto my knees and moved into the bathroom. Squinting, I attempted to see through the darkness and eventually, I could just make out the shape of a foot. Chrissy was there and she was laying on the floor. OMG! Was she dead?
“Chrissy,” I screamed trying to reach her, my hands flailing in the nothingness.
“Amy!” Mason’s voice was louder and I twisted my head toward the sound. He was coming up the stairs.
“In here, please hurry,” I yelled before another bout of choking overcame me. The noise of the fire below me was louder now as was that rushing sound in my ears and I thought I was going to be sick. I moved the scarf from my hand and wrapped it around my throat and mouth to block out that acrid taste.
Suddenly, a pair of feet appeared at the bathroom door. It was Mason, he was holding a shirt over his face. I could just make out his features in the darkness. Determined, a man on a mission. I was so relieved to see him .
“Amy, come on. We need to get you out of here,” he barked down at me, bending to his knees, his hand gripping the backs of my arms to pull me up. I struggled slightly.
“No, Chrissy is there. She’s on the ground. I don’t know if she’s breathing. Take her first Mason,” I choked out.
Mason peered into the darkness as he helped me to my feet, a mixture of emotions crossing his face. He was weighing up the best course of action.
“No, I’ll come back for her. We don’t know what state she’s in and I know I can get you out safe.”
I pulled against his hold but he was already lifting me. My body felt too weak to disagree. I had to trust him. He wouldn’t let Chrissy die; he wouldn’t leave her.
As he moved out of the bathroom and toward the staircase, he glanced down into my face. “I’ll go back for her, I promise. I just need to get you to safety first, OK.”
I nodded my head. I believed him. This man would never break a promise to me.
As he negotiated the stairs carefully, it was at that point that the full extent of the situation hit me with the force of a sledgehammer.
Everything was hot and I could hardly breathe.
The ground floor of our house was pretty much engulfed in flames. The air was bright orange in places and biting against my skin. It was so hot it felt like my bones were melting.
Mason moved quickly, meticulously choosing where to stand and where not to. Part of the banister fell to the side of us, narrowly missing Mason’s legs.
As we moved across the lobby which appeared to be the only room untouched by fire at that point, I could see into the kitchen where the units were all ablaze. That special place where my family and I shared our lives together was gone. But why, how? A sob was wrenched from my throat and Mason pulled me further into his chest, “Don’t look, Amy. Just keep your eyes closed,” he instructed firmly.
The front door was hanging off and the wood was blackened. Mason strode out onto the porch, the fresh air hitting me like hope. My eyes caught those of several other people .
“Amy,” Jenna screamed running forward but Nixon snagged her arm. Stopping her from mounting the porch steps toward us. Mason took them two at a time and as we hit the gravel of the yard, relief pooled into me. Jenna was safe, thank God.
Nixon then released Jenna and she ran to me and threw her arms around my neck as Mason placed me on the ground. She was babbling and semi-hysterical. Her actions and the way she squeezed my body did little to ease that terrified feeling bouncing through me.
Mason and Nixon were saying something above us but I couldn’t hear what. The wind howled and the noise from burning wood splintered up into the air, drowning everything else out. I could hear a faint sound of sirens in the distance. But it was so slight it could have been coming from miles away, the other side of Norwich! Fear jetted into me.
I didn’t dare turn and look up at the house as I said, “Chrissy.” The words dragged from my chest.
The realisation that my sister was still unconscious in the bathroom bit into my thoughts, forcing me to pull myself together.
I pushed Jenna away and into the waiting embrace of Nixon. Her panic had been forced up into the next gear as I said our sister’s name.
I spun toward Mason; part of his face was black and he was in the process of readjusting the shirt he’d now tied over his mouth.
I made to move past him but he caught my arm.
“Stay here. I’m going back for Chrissy,” Mason instructed in firm, muffled voice. “Boyd,” he then added.
Suddenly, Boyd appeared beside me.
“Look after her, do not let her follow me.”
I could feel Boyd’s body stiffen beside me as he agreed to do as Mason had instructed.
Mason then turned and climbed the porch, re-entering the burning building.
I glanced up into the sky, the flames were high, smoke billowing from several areas of our house. The worse affected were the two side sections and part of the lobby which had now also caught fire. The smell in the air was foul, burning with a chemical element which was odd. I so hoped it didn’t spread to where we kept the fertiliser, the whole place would go off like a bomb.
How I wished my mum and dad were there. I so wanted to feel my father’s arms around me.
There was a loud smashing noise which brought us all to our knees as the kitchen windows blew out and what sounded like a small explosion echoed around the yard. I fleetingly spied my Mini, the paintwork was covered by bits of wood and ash. It was a sorry sight and to think I had never driven her. At that split second how I wished I’d taken Mason up on his offer to teach me to drive. An odd thought to have during such a time of crisis.
I pushed to my feet and moved to the side, looking up at the windows with the frosted glass, at the bathroom where Chrissy was laying helpless and alone. There were no flames there yet but that room was above the kitchen which was well on its way. Another wave of panic hit me. Was it safe for Mason to enter the room only yards above that burning inferno beneath him?
Mason, Chrissy. I could not lose either of them.
Sobs suddenly poured from my body and I felt Boyd’s hand on my shoulder.
“He’ll find her Amy, don’t worry,” he said reassuringly. His kindness forced another wave of misery to channel through me.
Jenna and Nixon were just behind us, she was making little mewing noises and Nix was saying soothing things, trying to calm her.
“Seth, come here. Stay with Jenna. I’m going to see if I can help Mason,” he said.
I twisted to see Seth appear beside him and place a gentle arm around my sister. She wasn’t coping well but I couldn’t be dealing with that right then. I had to be strong for Chrissy.
As I turned back to the window, my heart jumped in my chest as the panel opened and a large arm appeared. Mason!
Both myself, Boyd and Nixon moved toward it, standing below the bathroom, and looking straight up at the second floor. A thick plume of smoke poured from the open window like it was water.
The past rivalry between our families at that point felt so thoroughly insignificant .
Mason’s head appeared and he was motioning toward us.
Nixon shuffled to stand directly beneath him, warding us all back with his hand. He was primed for action.
And then, Chrissy appeared. She was awake but was disorientated.
Mason placed his hand against his mouth and shouted at his brother.
“I’m going to lower her down. The stairs are out,” he barked.
Nixon nodded and moved more directly into position.
The stairs were out? How the hell would Mason get down? Despair chewed into me. I felt helpless and afraid.
I watched as Mason pushed the glass frame wider and then Chrissy’s bare feet appeared, followed by her legs. Mason had her wrists in his hands and he was lowering her out of the window toward Nixon whose arms were stretched up ready for her.
Thank Christ she was only on the first floor and not in the attic room shared by our parents.
I watched, holding everything in as Chrissy’s little feet skimmed Nixon’s hands. Mason was half leaning out of the window, his torso bent over the wooden frame. The part of his face that was visible was tense, the glow from the fire in the room below them lighting up half of his features and casting shadows over the rest. His arm muscles flexed with her weight.
Mason McKenna was saving my little sister’s life and my heart swelled in my chest. I loved him with all my heart. There was no doubt about that now.
“Got her,” Nixon yelled up to his brother and Mason released Chrissy’s wrists. She half dropped into Nixon’s arms and he caught her as they both flopped to the ground.
I raced over, dragging her against my body, sobbing my relief, my hands in her hair.
“Are you OK my darling talk to me?”
She nodded weakly. “I’m fine Amy.”
Then chaos erupted . I released Chrissy, pushing unsteadily to my feet, my eyes meeting Mason’s. That look that we shared was one I would never forget. The sirens of the fire brigaded were louder now, at the border into our property and relief pooled into me .
“Jump down, Mason, now,” Nixon yelled, turning briefly to look at the large fire engine tracking up our driveway.
Nixon’s voice snapped that thread that bound us, and Mason, lifted himself, placing a booted foot onto the window ledge; ready to launch himself out.
There was another explosion from inside the kitchen, maybe the cooker blowing out and the whole house shook with the impact. It was a volatile concoction and I fell to my knees again. The noise of the aftershocks rolled across my bones.
The noise from the sirens and the generator of the fire vehicle was deafening, as was the sound of splintering wood as the ceiling of the kitchen collapsed.
BOOM! Smoke and dust flew up into the air and out of what was left of the window in a mushroom cloud.
The ceiling of the kitchen was also the floor of the bathroom and a scream tore from my throat as I watched Mason fall backwards and disappear into the carnage, his body dragged down into the twisted rubble and that plume of smoke.
“No!” I screamed, breaking out into a run towards the porch, stumbling on the uneven ground. I had to get to Mason, I needed to help him, save him, something. Panic clawed into my chest so thoroughly that I felt physical pain. My thoughts raced; images of Mason’s mangled body trapped beneath the rubble infected my mind like poison.
Strong arms grabbed me from behind and I struggled, screaming at whoever held me. I even tried to bite him.
“Let me go!” I screeched, yanking against the hard hands which restrained me.
“Are you fucking crazy, you can’t go in there. The flames are too high,” Boyd yelled into my ear. He held me tightly against his chest and there was nowhere to go. His words were more painful than any physical blow. He was stopping me from getting to Mason. The breath was being ripped from my body and I knew I was on the edge of a panic attack.
Nixon had also run toward the porch but he couldn’t get up there, a large piece of wood was now blocking the doorway. The flames behind there, roaring this way and that, casting angry shadows against what was left of the back of our house .
I still struggled against those arms, feeling so helpless and weak. I barely noticed Seth and Jenna who were now standing beside us. Jenna looked dazed; her face unreadable. Chrissy was still on the ground where Nixon had left her but she was still conscious. Her eyes were glued onto the floor in front of her and I was relieved she wasn’t looking at the house. The place I had called home all my entire life was gradually being swallowed up by the inferno of the fire. Erased almost.
I eased my shoulders, knowing Boyd was right and that there was nothing I could do. Mason, where was Mason, please be OK, please!
Nixon turned and jumped down the steps, darting past me toward a fireman that was in full firefighting gear. His gaze was full of angry determination.
They spoke quickly, their voices like rapid fire and Nixon’s hand gestures were frantic. With a nod, one of the large firemen approached the steps, kicked the wood blocking the door aside and entered the building, soon followed by his colleague.
We all stood there, in different states of shock. But all that pumped through my head were thoughts of Mason, of our time together, our childhood moments and how things had changed between us as adults. This wasn’t it. It couldn’t be. They had to find him, he had to be OK. I couldn’t lose him.
He was mine ; I knew that then. He’d been there all those years hiding in plain sight. My nemesis, my tormentor, but my life .
Our times together flashed before my eyes as the what-felt-like-forever rescue took place.
Other firemen were now close by and water was being sprayed up into the air in order to control the fire. The spray appeared to be doing little to settle the flames.
More sirens and another fire engine growled up our driveway.
Please be OK, please. I can’t live without you. My eyes were gritty and I could hardly see, the glow from the fire also added to that stinging sensation.
Flicking my head around toward another higher siren, my breath hitched as an ambulance pulled up beside the second fire engine and two paramedics shot out, one heading directly for Chrissy who was still sitting on the grass crying with Seth now attempting to comfort her. My heart squeezed as I couldn’t go to her, I needed to know Mason was safe .
Jenna was now sitting on the ground with her knees pulled up to her chest. She still appeared dazed and was wearing a haunting smile.
I turned to look at the house and breath whooshed from my body as I saw the two firemen making their way out with…
OMG, Mason! They’d found him. He wasn’t moving and they had to half drag, half carry him down the steps toward us. Nixon appeared by their side, attempting to help and at that point, Boyd released me and moved to assist his brother.
I shifted toward them, “Mason,” my voice was croaky and weak. I felt my backbone crumbling and could hardly stand.
Nixon placed out an arm to stop me, “Give them space Amy,” he instructed and I obeyed, walking alongside them as they led him to the approaching medic who had a stretcher ready.
I tore my eyes away from Nixon as they lowered Mason’s battered body onto the bed, the paramedic dropping to his knees to assess the damage. The other medic, placed an ugly-looking brace around Mason’s neck, muttering something about a possible spinal injury and another jet of fear shot into me. It was all so frantic and thorough yet with that terrifying element of the unknown mixed in there. I felt physically sick with nerves.
Mason looked broken. His body looked lifeless, so very still and his skin was blackened by the smoke. I could see his jeans were ripped, and there was congealed blood on his torso as well as his head. Tears poured down my face, stinging my cheeks like acid. What injuries had he sustained in the fall? Could he die? I dashed the moisture away from my eyes, but my vision remained blurred like the smoke had damaged my sight.
I knew pain was part of life but nothing could have prepared me for the intenseness of that feeling that pumped through me. Like I was being torn down the middle. Ripped in two.
The whole thing was like a scene from a horror movie and my thoughts darted again to my parents. Would they have been informed yet? Did I need to call them? A thousand thoughts about what I needed to do next raced around my head. What about Mattie ?
Grief shot into me from all angles. Horrible scenarios whirred through my mind and I felt like I was being tortured. The only thing that could stop that feeling was Mason opening his eyes and looking at me, moving, doing something. Get up! I wanted to scream at him. And I suddenly felt angry that he could do this to me, put me through this. The chaos of my emotions made no sense.
After several different procedures, I watched as the paramedic placed an oxygen mask over Mason’s head. The other medic appeared and they raised the stretcher and started to lift him into the ambulance.
I moved towards them, I needed to be by his side but Nixon’s hand wrapped around my arm.
“No Amy. I’ll go with Mase. You follow behind with Boyd, Seth, and the girls.”
I dragged my hand away and in the firmest voice I had ever heard myself use with this man, I stated.
“No Nixon, you have to let me go with him,” my voice was firm but cracked slightly at the end.
“No, Amy.” Nixon shot back in a dark voice and my heart almost stalled.
I needed to stand my ground, “I love him, I’m in love with him Nixon, please! ” the cry burst from my lips.
My brother-in-law’s expression changed and his scowl fell away. My words as I said them were so firm and final. And it was the truth, I wasn’t sure when it had happened but I was irrevocably in love with the boy next door, Mason McKenna, an enemy of the family, but the owner of my heart.
Nixon’s eyes roamed over my face. He could see it, my love for Mason, echoed out of my chest like a lion’s roar.
That stern look Nixon always wore when he looked at me was gone and understanding sifted into his features.
Nixon nodded his head in agreement and I pulled away.
“We’ll follow you.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, relief slamming into my chest.
I jerked my gaze away and climbed up into the ambulance which held the body of the man I loved. He was battered and bruised and still unconscious .
At that point, I would have done anything within my power to switch places with him. This boy had saved my life and put himself at risk to save my sister and now he was torn and broken. The paramedic’s words, and ‘spinal injury’ swam around my head.
No, I needed to steer my thoughts away from any dark places, I had to be confident. Mason would require encouragement and positivity to get better. And he would get better, I’d sell my soul to the devil if I had to.
The ambulance jolted as it set off down the driveway and I felt numb. I could see the firefighters doing their jobs through the blacked-out windows of the back doors.
A paramedic was still working on Mason and I just sat there, ensuring I wasn’t in the way. An occasional sympathetic smile was sent my way as she worked on her patient.
“Do you want to hold his hand?” the paramedic said.
I forced my brain into gear, “Yes, please. If I won’t be in the way?”
She returned my smile and said, in a calm voice, “You won’t be in the way. My job is to keep him stable. When we get to the hospital, they will have work to do but you mustn’t worry. We’ve got him,” she explained. Her reassurance didn’t matter, my guts were still tied into knots of pain.
The medic continued to work on Mason, she attached some wires to parts of his chest and turned on a monitor of sorts. It appeared to be measuring his heartbeat, the rhythm of that beat felt calming. She also inserted a needle and tube into the back of his other hand, attaching a drip with fluids in it.
Once she had done the necessary checks, she started to run her hands down his jeans, removing his personal items. There was his wallet, a pack of gum and his phone which he’d had in his pocket. The medic placed the items into a see-through bag and gave them to me for safe keeping. I clutched the bag against my chest.
Peering miserably down at Mason’s still form, I raised my hand and pushed my fingers into his free hand, squeezing slightly. I wanted him to know I was there. The warmth of his limp fingers did nothing for that empty coldness I felt inside.
He looked lifeless, I could see his chest lifting and falling slightly and so knew he was breathing, but it was like that fire inside him had burnt out. I needed to tell him I loved him, he needed to know. The thought of never having the chance to tell him how I really felt, hung around my neck like the heaviest of chains.
The time I had spent in this man’s arms were memories I would never forget. The thought of not being able to add to them was like thinking of a world I didn’t want to be part of. I attempted to swallow away that reoccurring lump in my throat several times. Guilt over all the different ways I had tormented him growing up swayed in my chest. Like a memory of our cheekier times together flashing before my eyes. I squeezed his hand, but nothing.
The ambulance suddenly swerved, overtaking an orange van that was parked awkwardly outside my driveway and I wondered fleetingly where I’d seen it before. I also wondered what it was doing on our land. Had the fire already drawn in the rubberneckers? Those people that got a kick out of witnessing tragic events?
For the rest of that journey, I kept hold of Mason’s motionless hand and prayed to God.
At one point, the paramedic placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder and said, “Please, don’t worry. We have him, everything will be OK.”
Were they even allowed to say that? Because it would never be OK for me ever again…
Not without Mason.