Love Me Or Die Young

I coughed. And coughed again. A third cough woke me from my sleep. I groggily opened my swollen eyes. My throat was scratchy and felt swollen. My breaths wheezed in as sweat broke out across my forehead. Why was it suddenly so stinking hot in this room?

I sat up too quickly and the memory of what had occurred in this room slammed back into me with the shooting pain in my side and the dull throb of my cheek. I rubbed my eyes, realizing I must have fallen asleep on the foreign bed. I stood up, my movements much slower and cautious now. A burning heat continued to torch the room as I shuffled over to the door. I wiped the sweat from my brow as I grabbed the door handle. My hand flinched back, burned by the flaming heat.

A sick feeling of dread slowly began to take hold within me. Why was the room hot? Why was the door handle burning? I took a deep breath through my nose and, for the first time, realized it stunk of smoke. The house was on fire!

Panic began to pump through my veins as I pulled my shirt down over my hand and again tried the doorknob. The heat seared through my shirt, but I ignored the pain as I tried to turn the knob. The stupid thing wouldn't budge. Scott had locked the door.

I quickly stepped away, ignoring the pain as I rushed over to the window. I unlocked it and pulled upwards but the stupid glass pane wouldn't budge.

No! No! No!

This is not how I was going to die. I was not going to die at only eighteen in a freaking drug house! I didn't go through everything I had survived to die like this!

I spun around, frantically looking for something to break the glass with. I grabbed a lamp and rushed back to the window. I swung it at the glass, but the lamp simply smashed as the window remained intact.

My heart pounded as more sweat broke out over my entire body. I swung around and my heart dropped to my feet as the door I had just tried to open was now on fire.

"No!" I screamed as, in a complete and utter panic, I banged my fists on the window. "Help me! Someone help me! Please!"

Tears began streaming down my face as I hit and kicked at the window, but it refused to break beneath my limbs. I didn't want to die! I wasn't ready!

Smoke billowed into the room and my childhood education kicked in and I dropped to the floor, knowing more oxygen would be down lower.

I pulled my cellphone from my jean pocket and cursed as the stupid thing was dead. Just my luck. I shoved it back into my pocket as the smoke began to surround me with its promise of death before the fire. Like hell. I wasn't going out like this.

Sirens suddenly wailed out from the darkness outside as red and blue lights lit up the smoke-filled room. Help was here! But would they even know I was in here? Would Scott alert them? Was he even still around? What kind of lowlife, scum of the earth boyfriend would leave their girlfriend in a house that was on fire?

Depressingly, I realized I had that boyfriend, and I allowed him to treat me like this. I was no better than he was.

I scrambled to my feet and again attacked the window with all the force of a crazy person refusing to go quietly to their death.

"I'm up here!" I screamed though I doubted they could hear me. "Help me!"

I thrashed against the window with everything I had, desperate for someone to somehow hear me. My vision began to blacken around the edges as my head began to get foggy and lightheaded. I forced my eyes to focus on the lights outside the window, but it was a losing battle. The smoke was cutting off my oxygen supply and slowly killing me.

My pounding turned into clawing as the strength began to drain from my arms.

"Someone help," I forced out, my voice only a whisper. "Please."

"Get back!" a voice replied.

My eyebrows crushed downward as I stumbled backwards like a drunken sailor and tripped over my own feet and fell backwards onto my butt. Had someone actually answered?

"Stay back!" the male voice again called as something suddenly smashed into the window. Glass shattered everywhere and I threw my arms over my face.

"Are you okay?" a male voice asked with a British accent.

I clumsily dropped my arms as my eyes looked loopily toward the fireman in full gear crouched in front of me.

"Come with me," he said through his mask in his British accent.

Green eyes flashed before me as, with a gasp, I opened my eyes. I looked side to side, frantically trying to figure out where the hell I was and what was going on. Sterile cleaners burned my nose, along with whatever was stuck up into it. I quickly grabbed at it, feeling tubing running into my nose and behind my ears.

I looked around the drab, beige hospital room. An empty chair sat in the corner. No one was here to see me, no one concerned if I was dead or alive. It was a depressing realization that sunk down upon me as a nurse walked into the room.

"Glad to see you awake, honey. How are you feeling?"

I stared at her as I took a moment to process her words, my brain apparently still lost within the fog of the fire. She was an older woman with graying hair tied up into a bun. "Tired," I finally responded. "Where am I?"

"The hospital," she replied as though I should know as she logged onto a nearby computer and began typing. "I'll just need your name and I'll get some vitals from you."

My mouth went dry as I stared silently at her for a moment. Did she know? Had she called them already? Were they on their way?

My heartrate increased as my hands began sweating. My fingers fidgeted with the thin, white blanket on the bed. "Kendra Edwards."

She nodded, seemingly agreeing with me as I moved robotically, allowing her to take my blood pressure and temperature. She lightly hummed as she methodically worked through the procedures.

"Is there anyone we should call?" she asked. "You'll be discharged soon enough."

I lowered my eyes to the tiled floor. I couldn't call Scott when he was high on drugs. It's not like he could drive here to get me in his current situation, or even want to. "No."

"You sure?" she asked as she began typing away again on the computer. "Its no trouble at all. Or you can contact someone yourself, if you prefer. I know you kids all have your fancy cellphones. You just let me know if there is anything we can do for you."

I watched her feet leave as I slowly raised my eyes and sighed. How pathetic was I that, out of the millions of people in the world, I had no desire to call any of them to join me in the hospital?

---

After seeing a doctor, another nurse, and an interview with the police, I felt physically sick from the nerves and lies I was forced to tell. Thankfully, I was finally discharged from the hospital and walked out the front door into the darkness of night with an impending medical bill that I had no money to pay for. I worked two jobs, but both were only part time. Despite all my work, I always seemed to be dead broke. I knew why, and I knew I needed to make changes, I just didn't know how.

With a dead phone and no help in sight, I walked over to the bus stop. I stared up at the stars above and wished for a different life.

---

Morning came far too soon. I rolled out of bed and reluctantly got ready for work. I blew out a breath as I applied make-up over my left bruised cheek. Somehow, I had become a bit of an expert at covering bruises. Once it was buried from sight, I grabbed my purse and hurried out the door to catch the bus for work.

I had the lunch hour shift today at Kiki's, a locally owned restaurant I served as a waitress at during the week. The pay sucked, but the tips normally made up for it. Today it seemed everyone was trying the little patience I had on the minimal sleep I had gotten. Not only had I gotten home late, but a pair of green eyes had haunted my dreams.

At the end of my shift, I boxed up a dozen cookies and headed out the door. The hot Florida sun beat down upon me as I began my walk. I was still trying to adjust to the hot summers here in Florida after relocating here. Back home, the summer heat would feel good after the frigid winter. Here, the heat would take your breath away and make you feel as though you were suffocating in the thick humidity. I walked several blocks, shifting the box of cookies around in my hands and working up a good layer of sweat before reaching the fire house. This was the closest one to where I had been rescued, and I assumed it was the one that had responded.

"Can I help you?" a large, balding man asked as I approached the firehouse.