Liar Liar

36

The heat was so intense, the smoke so dense, that for a brief moment Denise thought she had died and gone to Hell. Having blacked out as the wall of fire swept over her, she now came to on the floor, stunned, confused and ripped through with pain. But she was alive. Against the odds, she was still alive.

She tried to raise her head from the floor, but immediately felt so faint that she let it drop once more. What was happening? Where was Callum? Why wasn’t anyone coming to help her? Closing her eyes, she gingerly raised her head once more, working herself up on to her elbows. A wave of nausea swept over her, her vision swam, but she could support herself now and, feeling a little more confident, slowly opened her eyes.

Darkness surrounded her. It was as if she was at the centre of some terrible storm cloud that had blocked out the sun. Pushing herself up further, she looked around her, but she couldn’t find her bearings. Was she still in her bedroom? She assumed she was, but how could she tell?

Looking down, she could just make out that she was naked. Lifting her arm, she ran her hand over her body. There was no sign of her night clothes – they must have burnt clean off. Her skin felt mottled and unfamiliar and as she ran her fingers over her torso, caressing the fresh burns, a huge spasm of pain ran through her. This time she was sick, bringing up the whole contents of her stomach on the floor next to her. It fizzed as it hit the surface.

Denise knew in that instant that she had to move. She was dying by degrees, her body slowly cooking, while her lungs filled with thick sooty smoke. Coughing violently, she brought up another heave of watery bile, then slowly, agonizingly, pushed herself up on to her knees. She had to get out. If not for herself, at least for Callum.

She reached out for something to support herself, but could find nothing. So closing her eyes, she willed herself upright and staggered forwards on to her feet. The searing heat immediately claimed her, crawling over her face, her neck, her hair. It was impossible to breathe up here – every second counted now – so she opened her eyes, searching for something familiar. The outline of the window, the door, anything to help her find a way out.

But she couldn’t see a single thing. The black smoke had consumed everything and she was lost in the centre of her own nightmare. She took three steps forward. The disintegrating boards groaned, her feet picked up fresh blisters with each painful step but on she went. One step, two, three. Her arms swung around wildly expecting – hoping – to connect with something solid, something familiar. But she found only smoke.

Crying now, she turned and went hard the other way. Surely this must be right. Her right foot caught on something and she fell to one knee, but on she went, dragging herself up, driving herself forward. She cannoned off something solid and suddenly filled with hope ran her hands over the surface. Was it a door? A window? She scraped at it, but it came away in her hand. Clawing harder, she now came up against solid brick. Jesus Christ, it was one of the walls. She was in the wrong place. The door must be…

She turned and moved randomly forward, no idea now which way was which. Her head swam wildly and she stumbled again. Which way was left? Which right? Which direction should she go in?

Denise stood still, paralysed by fear, as the fire raged around her and the smoke enveloped her. The decision she was about to make would either cost her her life or save it. So crying quietly and praying to God for help, she picked a direction, swallowed her fears and stumbled slowly forward.