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Troy reached in again, the screaming piercing his head and the smell of smoke in his nose driving him crazy, trying to get to Simon, but he just couldn’t get him.
Someone pulled him back. He shouted out and pulled against them, fighting. He had to get in there. They had made a promise. It wasn’t supposed to end like this.
His arms stretched out, but he was being pulled back. Hands tugged at his shoulders, but he threw them off, trying to lunge back toward the flames. Screams bounced around inside his head.
“Troy! Troy!”
His eyes flew open and took in total darkness; he couldn’t see. He threw his hands out searching for something. He didn’t know what he needed, but he was supposed to touch something. Cold. Where was it? Where was the clock?
He smelled smoke, the acrid stench clawing through his head. He bolted upright and felt something hard. Things clattered to the floor, sounded different.
His throat burned. He was blind. He couldn’t see. Where was Simon? He had to get to him.
“Troy! Wake up!”
Hands were on him. A woman’s voice. Why did he know that?
There was a click and red light everywhere in the room. Troy dropped to the floor and covered his head, shaking now. Something sharp bit into his knee, and panicked scratching came from somewhere to his left.
“Troy! It’s me, Megan. You’re in my room.”
Megan? Megan. He knew that name.
His consciousness slowly grew inside him, pulling up stakes from the dangerous parts of his mind. The bad memories faded. The scream faded. The smoke lingered.
He tried to speak, but it came out like a croak.
“What was that? What’s wrong?” she asked, worry in her voice.
“Fire! S-smoke!”
“What? Oh, shit. No, no, no. There’s no fire. Let me get the smell out of here.”
He felt her get up and pick something up before walking away and running water over something. The putrid smell still stank in the air. He hated the smell of smoke, and thankfully, the cold air came in like a breath from God himself.
“I opened the bathroom window. Let me get this one too.”
A latch, pop, and slide welcomed in icy air that washed over him like a cold kiss of reality.
He unfolded himself and took in the room. Megan turned on another light, just white this time, and slowly the night before came back to him.
As awareness dawned, he shut his eyes and dropped his head, a fresh wave of exhaustion crashing through him and pulling him down.
“Why don’t you lie down?”
Troy shook his head. He stood and walked over to the open window, bracing himself against the panes, looking down at the darkness below. He couldn’t see anything outside, but reveled in the dark air against his skin, which felt hot and damp. He pulled a hand over his face to wipe the clamminess away.
Megan padded up behind him, and to his credit, he didn’t lunge at her, but kept practicing on his deep breathing.
He drew in. One. Two. Three. Four.
Held. One. Two. Three. Four.
Blew it out through his mouth, his throat stinging. One. Two. Three. Four.
Megan must have sensed the tension in him coiled like a spring because she just stood behind him watching for a few more rounds.
Echoes of the dream haunted him. The screams, smoke, fire, and hands pulling him back. Had that been her? That part was new. God, he hoped he hadn’t hurt her. He wanted to take her in his arms and reassure her, or maybe deny whatever it was she saw or heard, but it was too much. Looking her in the eye with the new knowledge she had about him was too deep. He felt too vulnerable.
