Ordinary things on an ordinary night. I wander into the kids’ room. My son, Taylor, 4 years old, sleeps, and I pull the covers around him and kiss his forehead. I walk downstairs to check the hearth (壁炉). The fire is almost out. A thin veil of smoke hangs in the air. I climb upstairs and fall back into bed, but an hour later, panic wakes me. I stand in the kids’ room. The house seems smokier than it did before, but how can that be when the fire burned out hours ago? I crack a window, return to bed, and fall into a dead sleep.
Suddenly, I hear screams. It’s my husband, Troy. “Mary! Get out of the house!”
Hearing the panic in his voice, I sit upright. I run to the bedroom door and swing it open, and I am blown back, knocked to the floor. Searing (灼人的) heat and black smoke surround me, burning my skin. I gasp for breath and crawl across the floor, shielding my mouth and nose.
Without knowing how, I have Taylor in my arms and am at his bedroom window. When I open it, ashes and smoke blow through as the heat is pulled toward us. There’s fire behind me, a 9-meter drop to concrete (混凝土) below.
Troy shouts from another window, “Hold on! I’m coming—I’m gonna jump!” Then the sickening sound of bones against concrete. I scream his name, but he doesn’t respond. I start to cry, but there is no time for panic.
I lower Taylor out his window as far as my arms will stretch so he can breathe. I hold only his tiny hands, his body dangling (晃荡). I am in the center of the firestorm. I choke, spitting out black ashes. Blisters rise on the backs of my legs; the pain becomes unbearable. I have to do something. But there is no grass below, no trees or bushes.
Paragraph 1:
My brain searches for options.
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Paragraph 2:
At that very moment, Troy shouts, “Drop him! I’m here!”
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