It's my fault

The night was young when it started. The house was quiet, and the halls were dark. The only sound that could be heard in the house was the quiet breathing of people breathing.

And then a dog started barking, barking from their backyard, and Charlie began to sweat. She shifted uncomfortably but didn’t wake up. She didn’t wake up when the night started getting brighter. She didn’t wake up when her dog started yelping in fear. She didn’t wake up when the sound of crackling flames started to fill the air. She could have kept sleeping until the smoke turned her lungs black.

The sound of her little brother screaming is what jerks Charlie awake, eyes wide as saucers while she looks around. When she saw the orange light outside her window, she too screamed.

           “MOM! DAD!” Charlie leaps out of bed, grabbing at her bedside table drawer. She fumbles in the drawer, pushing aside notebooks, pens, knife, and snacks until she grabs a key. She runs for her bedroom door, unlocking it and then drawing back the latch. It’s stuck. She pushes it forward and back again. Still stuck! She frantically pulls it back, pulling it violently. Her fingers turn bloody before it finally opens.

           “But Dad,” a nine-year-old Charlie whined as her dad screws the latch into her bedroom door. “What if I need to go pee?” She still has trouble holding it in sometimes.

           Her father sighed as he put aside his screwdriver and turns to face his daughter. “Charlie, this is for your own protection. What if someone gets in the house? What if they try and get you first? What if this latch is the only thing that is protecting you? If you need to pee, unlock the door.”

           Charlie’s face skews with displeasure. “But I don’t want it! I don’t want it! No one can come into our house anyway!”

           “There’s always a chance someone will want to get in our house!”

           “I hate you!!!” Her dad turns back to the door as Charlie runs out of the room.

           Charlie stumbles out into a hallway thick with smoke, and immediately starts coughing. She inhales hard only to choke as the smoke fills her lungs and she falls to ground as her chest heaves as her lungs try to expel the smoke. Tears are dripping down her cheeks as the smoke gets in her eyes and from the strain of coughing. She stumbles back into her room, gasping for air, but smoke is already beginning to consume the air. She throws up on her carpet, the taste of bile filling her mouth alongside the taste of smoke. She heaves and coughs until her stomach is empty, and then some more as her body frantically tries to expel the contamination. But her lungs insist on pulling in air, even though it is killing her.

           She can still hear her brothers cries of fear.

           “Need…to get…Danny,” she gasps, and reaches for some her clothes lying strewn across the floor. She quickly grabs a shirt and hurriedly wets it with her glass of water, like her dad taught her, and tied it around her head before wetting another piece of cloth and then heading back into the hallway, keeping low. She starts coughing again, but this time it was manageable, but the wet cloth makes it hard to pull in oxygen. She stumbles down the hall, keeping her hand on the wall. She brushes up against some pictures, sending them tumbling to the ground in a crash of glass. Her vision blurs and she stumbles a bit, feeling dizzy. Nausea curls up from her stomach and she has to force herself to not vomit again. Fear pools in her stomach, replacing the bile she left behind. Fear for herself, fear for her brother, fear for what might be coming.

She paws at the door, feeling for Danny’s room as the smoke is making it too hard for her see, making her eyes tear up. The sound of fire is getting louder, and Charlie isn’t sure if she’s sweating from heat or nausea anymore.

           Her hand mercifully falls on Danny’s door handle and she shoves her way in. The air in hair is still partially untainted, but the smoke will fill it soon. But it brings no relief to the silent room.

           “Carefully Danny!” her father fussed as Danny tries to pull open a drawer with his tiny hands. Her father opens the drawer for him, eliciting a mewl of protest. “You could hurt yourself.”

           “Oh, let him be dear,” her mother says exasperatedly, starting a tired old argument again. “You can’t try and protect us all the time. At some point one of us is going to get hurt, and it will be our own fault.”

           Her father turns and stares at his wife. “And what about the things that aren’t our fault? What about what happened with Charlie? What would have happened if I didn’t forget my wallet? I wake up at night thinking about it! This is the only way we can keep safe!”

           Her mother shakes her head and turns back to her report, tired before an argument can erupt again. Her father keeps playing with Danny, always careful, always watching, always doing his best.

           “Danny? Danny!” Charlie stumbles to the three-year old’s bed. He is curled up on his covers, tears streaming from the smoke. He can barely even moan.

           “It’s okay Danny, I’m here,” Charlie gasps and picks him up. She puts the wet cloth over his mouth, loosely so he doesn’t suffocate, before pushing him under her shirt, trying to shield him from the smoke as much as possible. Taking as deep a breath as possible, she stumbles back out into the passage, keeping low.

           “Dad! Mom!” Charlie cries out. But even to her, her voice sounds hoarse and small. She can’t muster the strength to call out. She reaches the stairs and tries to go down quickly, but her legs fail her. They collapse beneath her and she slides down the stairs on her knees, before rolling. She shudders on the ground, her knees bleeding profusely. Danny gasps from beneath her shirt, pained gasps as he inhales at the fresh oxygen. He starts coughing furiously. His coughing rouses Charlie and she slowly gets up, her own lungs burning.

           He can’t stay here, she thinks, patting Danny’s back under her shirt. He can’t keep breathing smoke. But Mom and Dad!

           She hesitates, but Danny’s continued coughing settles the matter, and she rushes out of front door. She grabs at the keys and hastily pulls the chains and latches loose before unlocking the door, her hands fumbling at despite her usual ease. Her chest is burning, so much like that day.

           “Who are you?” Charlie asks uncertainly at the unfamiliar man standing in front of their door. The man smiles down at her, sending bad warnings through her head.

           “Hello dear. Is your mother and father home?”

           She shakes her slowly. “They went to the store just now.”

           “Oh, I see,” his smiles widens. “Can I come in and wait for them?”

           Charlie shakes her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Mom and Dad won’t be happy I let someone in I don’t know.”

           “Oh, don’t worry, I know your parents very well,” he says reassuringly. “They won’t be angry at you. Why don’t you let me in?”

           Charlie shakes her head and starts closing the door, only for his feet to jump in between the door and the frame. He takes a quick glance up and down the street before shoving the door open his shoulder.

           “What are you doing?!” Charlie manages to cry shrilly before the unknown man grabs her by her shirt and pulls her up into his chest, his other hand wrapping around her mouth.

           “Don’t you fucking scream,” he hisses as he drags her outside, where a car is still running. The windows are tinted black. Charlie struggles frantically, his hand choking her, fear burning in her chest. He slams a fist into her head, dazing her.

           “Enough of that you brat,” he snarls, ripping open the car door, glancing around. Nobody had seen him. He plaster tape over her mouth and hands before jumping into the driver’s seat. He starts to drive when he hears the sound of an engine under strain. He looks out the window just in time to see a car crash into them.

           Charlie collapses onto the grass, black smoke following her out. The wet shirt around her head falls and she takes a heave of fresh air that sends her into a coughing fit. Danny lies next her, motionless.

           “Danny,” she gasps as she stands up. Her vision is blurry, and her legs don’t feel like they are working properly. “I’ll be back soon, okay? I’m going to get Dad. He’ll know what to do.” Danny doesn’t answer, his eyes closed. Charlie whimpers before turning around and running back inside. Her parents are down the hall to the right of the front door. To the left is a passage leading to the kitchen and lounge. And she can see the source of the fire. The plugs with all Dad’s security camera’s hooked into set the curtains on fire. From there it spread to the rest of the lounge area. Her favorite couch is turning black. And it is starting to spread into the kitchen. The camera above the backdoor is melting, filling the air with a rank noxious smoke. The plastic drips into the dog’s water bowl, coloring it black. Snazzy will be fine. The fire isn’t outside yet.

           Charlie turns and hurries to her parent’s room as best as she can. Her legs are weak, and her vision is blurring. She passes the bathroom and starts to hear a weak banging coming from the main bedroom.

           “Dad?” she cries out, stumbling.

           She almost doesn’t hear him at first. “Charlie?” His voice sounds so weak. So different. “Charlie! Can you hear me?”

           “I’m here Dad!” Charlie grabs the doorknob and tries to turn it, but its locked.

           “I broke the key Charlie,” he says, anguish wracking his voice. “The flower…” his voice peters into short gasps.

           Charlie wasn’t supposed to be up at this time of night. But she couldn’t fall asleep and her glass was empty. When she went to the kitchen, she’d heard a strange sound coming from her parent’s room. She started walking towards them, but then her dad’s warnings came to mind. She hesitates before opening the cupboard under the stove, revealing a small TV screen. She quickly keys it to show her parents’ room. Her mom and Danny are at a friend’s house, letting their kids play together. It’s only Charlie and her Dad home. He hadn’t wanted them to go. At least not without letting him drive them to the house that is just down the street.

           Sitting outside their bedroom door, her Dad is vomiting into a pot plant copiously, his body shivering from the rejection. They’d had a beef casserole which is his favorite. Her Dad hadn’t eaten much before Mom left, and now he is throwing it all up.

           After a while, he stops vomiting and stays shivering on the floor. Through the grain of the camera feed, she thinks she can see him crying. She silent gets up and goes and listens to him, staying out of sight. He is repeating the same three words over and over to himself:

           “Please be safe. Please be safe. Please be safe.”

           Charlie reaches into the pot and pulls out a key. She tries several times, the key skating off of the shiny metal before finally falling into place. She turns the key and pushes the door open, breathing heavily through the cloth.

           Her Dad is sitting to the side of the door, his skin clammy and his face pale, her mom unconscious across his legs, a smelly cloth over her mouth. His own face is bare. He is sweating and pale. Charlie’s mouth works at the sight of him, but she can’t manage to say anything and nearly crumples the ground.

           “Charlie,” he gasps, reaching out to her, only to stop and cough as a cloud of smoke follows Charlie into the room. The smoke had been light before, but now it has unrestricted access to the room. “Thank God you’re okay. Where’s Danny?”

           “Outside,” Charlie sobs, starting to kneel beside him, but his hand stops her.

           “Don’t. You won’t get up. I need you to help me. I can’t stand by myself.”

           Charlie nods and tugs on his arm. She can’t put strength into her arms. The effort is immense, and he stumbles as he climbs to his feet, but he manages to stay standing. Together they hook her mother so that she hangs across their shoulders and stumble out of the room. Her Dad starts coughing as soon as they step out. Getting back to the front door is even slower than when Charlie passed through the hall. When they finally got to the door, her Dad stopped to look at the fire – and its source.

           The fire had spread into the kitchen now, burning the wood, revealing the TV screen. The plastic has melted, but her Dad’s reflection can still be seen in it. His eyes wander to the plugs, and they widen.

           “Oh God,” he gasps and stumbles out of the house, dropping his wife onto the ground. She groans as she rolls and starts coughing before gasping as she draws in air. Charlie rushes to Danny’s side. “It’s my fault.”

           “Danny? Danny are you okay? Danny, wake up please!”

           But Danny doesn’t move. His chest is still.

           Charlie stares numbly at the unmoving body. Her father falls beside her, gasping out before puking.

           “It’s my fault,” he says, tears creating paths of white skin down his cheeks.

           Neighbors start appearing as they hear the crackle of the fire. They find the mother and daughter unconscious, and the father grasping at his son’s shirt, crying out:

           “It’s my fault.”