Heat from the fireplace begins to fill the air. Me, mom and dad are sitting around the fire telling stories. Mom told me she used to have her hair blond. And dad once lit a trash can on fire when he was 16. And then they started talking about something under there breath. They told me to leave the room for a bit. I left while they were still silently talking about something. I heard a few words.

Fire

Here

Move

Forest 

I stayed in my bed the rest of my night. Trying to think of what they could be talking about.

I heard screaming coming from downstairs and water splashing. The smoke alarm went off and so did the ventilation. I ran down stairs as fast as I could to see what happened. The fire was out. Moms sweater was on the ground and wet. 

Mom was on fire. I thought. I started to call for her. But there was no response. I ran out of the house to try to find her. I called her once. Nothing. Called her twice. Nothing. I started to get worried. The car was gone. I thought they were at the hospital. I was wrong.

So wrong.