Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
As I stare at my crying daughter, I think about everything we’ll never get to do with her. We’ll never take her to Disney to see the princesses she loves or walk into her first day of school because our lives are about to end, right here, in this home, before any of us has gotten a chance to truly live. My only hope is that Trent got out, that he’s safe and can continue to live his life.
“Mama, ouch,” Jordan cries, rubbing her eyes. The scared look she gives me has me screaming out for help, even though I doubt anyone can hear me.
“Someone, please help!” I cough out. My throat is scratchy, and my lungs are burning, but I hate the thought of giving up. “Help!” I scream again before nuzzling my face into Jordan’s neck.
“I’m so sorry, Ladybug,” I cry.
I want to stand and carry her down the steps, consequences be damned, except my body is weak, and it’s hard to breathe. My brain is foggy, and keeping my eyes open is getting harder.
“I love you, Jordan,” I whisper, needing the last words I speak to my daughter to be words of love. “You have been our entire world since the day we found out—” I choke on my cough, unable to finish my thoughts.
My eyes land on my daughter, her eyes filled with tears, and as I accept our fate, I pray she doesn’t suffer. All I ever wanted was to give her life… and now, too soon, it’s being taken.
As my eyes close, a voice calls out to me, telling me everything is going to be okay. I’m not sure if it’s Trent or my imagination—or maybe it’s God welcoming Jordan and me home—but before I can pry my eyes open to see, everything goes black as my brain shuts down.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The loud beeping forces my eyes to open and take in my surroundings. The white walls and monitors stationed around me tell me I’m in a hospital.
Why am I in a hospital?
Like a flip of a switch, everything comes flooding back.
Jordan having an ear infection.
Me rocking her to sleep.
Waking up to the house on fire.
Unable to get us out.
Screaming for Trent.
Holding Jordan while I prayed for a quick and painless death.
Only death never came because I’m alive, which means…
“Jordan! Trent!” I scream in panic, pulling the oxygen tube out of my nose and throwing the heavy blanket off my body.
“Jordan!” I yell, padding across the floor toward the door. If I’m still breathing, that must mean my baby girl is alive as well, right? “Trent!” Please, please let them both be alive. I can’t be the only one who survived.
Just before my hand lands on the doorknob, a nurse steps inside. “You’re awake.”
“I need my daughter. Jordan Penelope Monroe. She’s two years old and has curly, reddish hair, like mine. She doesn’t have the same last name as me because her father and I… Trent…” My heart beats erratically behind my ribcage. “We were waiting until he graduated to get married.”
The nurse places a hand on my shoulder. “Take a deep breath. You’re having a panic attack.”
“I… I can’t breathe,” I choke out. “I need my daughter and Trent. I need to know they’re okay. Please,” I beg, “tell me they’re okay.”
“Kelsie, I need you to calm down.”
Oh God. That’s not good. I can see it in her eyes. She’s preparing to tell me bad news. I stumble back to the edge of my bed, trying to control my breathing so I don’t pass out. My throat burns, not helping matters.
“Please,” I say, once I’m slightly calmer. “I need to know… Is my daughter alive?” There isn’t a world I would want to live in where my daughter doesn’t exist. If she didn’t make it…
“Yes,” the nurse says with a small smile. “Your daughter is alive. You’ve both suffered from smoke inhalation, but with your lungs being strong, you’ll fully recover.”
Oh, thank God. “And Trent?” If we made it out, surely he did as well. We were on the second floor, and he was on the first. All he had to do was—
“Trent Monroe didn’t make it,” she says, slicing through my thoughts—and heart—with a sharp knife.
“He… he didn’t make it?” I breathe. “Are you sure? Maybe he got out and wasn’t injured, so he didn’t have to be admitted.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, her eyes filled with sympathy. “They confirmed he didn’t make it out. He died from smoke inhalation.”
“Did he…” I clear my throat. “Did he save us?” I ask, trying to get a grasp as to what happened. How we made it out, but Trent didn’t. None of it makes any sense.
“No.” She shakes her head. “From what I’ve heard, a firefighter got you and your daughter out, but by the time they went in for Trent, it was too late. I’m so sorry.”