Lilith, Angel of Death

My eyes snapped open, my body sensing something was wrong. The first thing my mind registered was the heavy smoke, the cause of my aching lungs. I quickly rolled off my bed, hitting the hardwood floor with a thud. I took several deep breaths, but even here the air had been stripped of most of its oxygen. What was going on? Where was I?

I tried moving towards the door, beads of sweat forming on my forehead from the heat. I ignored the locks of wavy auburn hair that stuck to my neck, reaching up to grab the handle. My fingertips brushed the burning metal and I yanked my hand back, crying out in pain. I suck them into my mouth and tried to calm myself, to think. I couldn’t see much of the room, the smoke was too thick. Maybe there was – How stupid could I get! The pillow!

I crawled my way back to the bed and grabbed it, using it to turn the handle. The door opened and a wave of boiling air hit me, almost melting my face off. If I survived this, I would have some serious burns. I tried to picture my face, but couldn’t. Panic gripped my heart as I realized I couldn’t remember how I looked like. Nor, for that matter, my name.

That’s not your biggest concern right now!! my lungs screamed at me. I dropped to the floor again, but found no oxygen. A wild instinct came over me, and I jumped into the inferno outside the room. I rushed through the flames, ignoring them even as they licked up the legs of my pajamas. I ran through the long, once homely hallway, and dropped down a set of stairs. I crashed through as the burning wood gave away under my weight, landing in an odd position that should have broken my legs in half. I gasped at the air, willing the meager amount of oxygen into my lungs. Along with it came the smell of burning flesh. I quickly sat up, wincing, and inspected my legs. They were red from the flames and blisters had formed, oozing a gross liquid, but they were not the source of the stench. I struggled to get on my skinned hands and knees and crawl on. The house was unfamiliar, but I figured it was best to go away from the fire, to maybe find a window.

I passed an open doorway and gagged. The causes of the foul odor were the blazing bodies of two adults, a man and a woman. I assumed they were my parents, but felt no regret at their passing. For a brief moment, I wondered whether it was because of my memory loss, but dismissed the thought as irrelevant. The fire was closer, the house groaning as it tried not to collapse. I knew I had little time to find an exit. I took a big gulp of air and stood, running through the hallway. When my vision became blurry, I let myself fall back to the floor and inhale. I surveyed the area the best I could, and concluded it was a kitchen. The windows were blocked by a wall of fire. No luck here. I turned to leave, but saw that the fire had spread quickly while I was looking around, and it had blocked my exit. My eyes widened in fear. I was going to die, there was nowhere to go. I felt drops of salty tears roll down my soot-covered cheeks and resisted the urge to brush them away with my bleeding hands. I didn’t want it to end here; I didn’t even know who I was! A sob escaped my throat, the sound covered by the crash of the house, as it started to give up the fight.

I looked around and made my way to the fridge, opening it and grabbing a bottle of water. As I dumped it on myself, I realized my lungs were aching no more. Was I dead? No, my burns were still painfully there. The fridge! The smoke couldn’t have possibly penetrated the air-lock on the fridge. I threw the empty bottle onto the ground and jumped up, renewed hope giving me strength. I opened the door, ripped out the shelves, and jumped in. With the door shut, the small white space felt like heaven. Air flooded my deprived lungs. I tried to save the oxygen, but the joy of breathing clean air was too much. I snuggled tightly, awaiting death, yet a little smile played on my lips.