"On a long enough time line, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero." - Tyler Durden, Fight Club

I'm torn from sleep that night by the sounds of my fire alarm going off.

I shot up in bed, eyes going wide as I heard the loud, shrill ringing noise. I didn't smell anything - which was enough to tell me that the fire wasn't in my apartment - but I could hear pounding footsteps from outside my apartment and voices calling for us to get out. In a rush, I grabbed a sweater to pull over myself, tore my phone from the charging cable, and quickly walked through my apartment.

I flung the door open to a mass of people, but one specific caught my eye - Griffin. He was standing in front of his apartment, awkwardly trying to mingle in with the mess of people on our floor, but he kept getting pushed out of the way. A guy in a security outfit (I recognized him; I had seen him in the lobby a few times) was standing by the stairs and promising everyone that the police and fire department would be here soon.

Suddenly I felt someone tug roughly on my arm, pulling me out of my haze. I blinked, heart racing in nervousness, and met Griffin's intense blue eyes. Without saying anything, Griffin tightened his grip slightly and pulled me over to the steps.

"Everyone walk in an orderly fashion down the steps. Someone will be waiting in the lobby to escort you outside. Please hurry, we need to evacuate this floor as fast as possible!"

My heart was racing in nervousness, and the smell of smoke finally met my nostrils. I whipped my head around frantically, ignoring Griffin's persistent tugging, and saw thick, dark sheets of smoke dancing up from the cracks of a closed door. I squinted through the haze, eyes landing on the numbers on the day.

Griffin's apartment.

I opened my mouth to say something, but suddenly a group of firemen and police officers started running up the stairs, gently pushing us out of their way. I caught a glimpse of a fireman pushing open the door before Griffin grabbed my arm again and pushed me in front of him, urging me to walk faster.

We broke into the lobby quickly and a police officer put his hands on our shoulders and led us outside, putting us a good distance away from the apartment complex. My heart was racing and I was sweating, staring up at the building in horror. I couldn't fathom how there could be a fire in the apartment complex I lived in. I couldn't fathom how it came from Griffin's apartment.

I looked up at the guy next to me, who's hand was now gently wrapped around my forearm, fingers rubbing on my arm lightly, "Griffin, what happened?"

Griffin stared straight in front of him, jaw locked tightly as he muttered out, "A fire."

Someone bumped into my shoulder, knocking me back before I could say anything else to Griffin. The entire front parking lot of the apartment complex was filled with people - families holding tightly to their children, people half-asleep and in pajamas, and some just staring in utter confusion at the building, mumbling questions and angry comments.

I wasn't sure how long we all stood out there - it had to be less than an hour, but I couldn't pinpoint an exact time. All I knew was that I stood next to a silent Griffin, a thousand and one questions running through my mind. How had the fire started? Had it spread to my apartment? Who had pulled the fire alarm? Why hadn't the sprinklers gone off? Why the fuck wasn't anyone saying anything to else?

The front door open and the same group of police officers and firemen walked out, sweaty and seemingly annoyed. The manager of our apartment complex walked over to them quickly and began talking, waving their hands and mumbling things too quiet for any of us to hear.

One of the police officers - one who had stayed outside with us - stepped forward and cupped his hands around his mouth, "Can Griffin Cutkosky step forward, please!"

Griffin grabbed my shoulder and turned me to him. Something was different about Griffin - his grip on me was tight, his lips were pursed into a tight line, and his blue eyes were locked on me, a sense of urgency written across his face. Everything about Griffin in that moment screamed nervousness and urgency. A weird combination.

"They're going to take me down to the station for questioning," Griffin said, dropping his grip and already starting to back up, "Wait for me in my apartment. I don't know when I'll be back, but please wait. I need your help."

With that, Griffin turned and walked through the crowd of people. It reminded me of Moses parting the Red Sea; everyone split to the sides, acting as if touching Griffin would give them some kind of disease. I guess in a way, I couldn't blame them. This guy had torn them from their sleep and sent fear into their hearts, even if it wasn't really his fault.

I watched Griffin talk to the police officer, even as my apartment manager started telling everyone it was safe to come in. The fire had been started by a lit candle, and everything had been aired out to make sure there wouldn't be any smoke inhalation. The apartment where the fire had started was closed off, but the damage hadn't spread any further than that.

Still, all that went in one ear and out the other. I was too focused on Griffin. Even as I started making my way back into the apartment complex, I kept one on eye on him. I watched Griffin Cutkosky until he got into the back of the police car.

Once Griffin got in the car, I stepped back into the lobby, making my way over to the steps since the elevators were closed off. By the time I made it to my floor, I was exhausted, annoyed, and cold, fingers shaking lightly as I pulled my keys out of my pocket. I stood in front of my apartment complex pausing when I remembered Griffin's words from earlier.

  Wait for me in my apartment.

I cocked my head to the side, staring at the yellow tape in front of Griffin's half-open door. The hinges on the door were crooked, leaving it open enough for me to slip through without anyone noticing. I could have gone into Griffin's apartment with anyone noticing.

I slowly walked over to Griffin's apartment, heart pounding a fast beat in my chest. I couldn't imagine why Griffin wanted me to wait for him in his apartment. I couldn't figure out why Griffin would want me to wait in his apartment where a fire had just occurred. But I was curious and too wrapped up in Griffin's world, so I stepped around the yellow tape and slipped into the open space.

The smell of smoke hit me immediately, making me wince and pinch two fingers against the bridge of my nose. All the lights in the apartment were off, the only bit of light streaming in through the open window. And that was when I saw it.

The curtains above the window weren't really curtains anymore - they were black and shriveled up, ash clinging to the remains of them. The rug right below the window - where a small table sat - was half-burnt away, the edges ashy and burnt. The legs of the table were burnt, and one chair had all-but melted into a pile of wood splinters.

I walked over slowly, staring at the damage. A fire like this seemed so random - there didn't seem to be a way or reason for it to happen. And then I saw the melted pile of wax sitting on a small ceramic plate directly below the curtain.

My heart was in my throat when I sat down, a feeling of unease settling in my stomach. Griffin had left a burning candle under his curtain? It seemed possible; Griffin was always so exhausted that it was plausible that he lit it and then forgot. But why would he have to go the station? Griffin was always so sure someone had broken into his apartment, so what if this was the work of someone else?

I lifted my legs onto the couch and rested my chin on my knees, making a silent promise that I would wait for Griffin for a half-hour. I didn't think I could stand to be in his apartment any longer than that.

-

"Emmy," voice murmured, a hand gently shaking my shoulder, "Hey, it's me. Wake up."

My eyelids slowly fluttered open to meet with a pair of intense, ice blue eyes. Griffin was kneeling in front of me, his dark blond hair tousled, face pulled into an expression of worry. Light was streaming in through the window, making me groan quietly and lean back, blinking to try and wipe the sleep out of my eyes.

"What time is it?" I mumbled, throat sore. I knew I had come in Griffin's apartment in the middle of the night, but it certainly wasn't the nighttime anymore.

"Seven in the morning," Griffin told me, standing up and sitting back down next to me. Stretching out his long, plaid-pajama clad legs, Griffin frowned and rolled his shoulders, "I was at the station for hours to fill out my police report."

Even through my sleep-clogged mind, I understood what Griffin was saying. He told the police that he believed someone broke into his apartment and put the candle below the curtain, causing a fire. Griffin had been at the police station so long because he, undoubtedly, had to repeat his slightly insane-sounding story multiple times.

Gently, I asked, "You think someone broke in?"

Gently, he responded, "I don't own any candles."

It was chilling to hear Griffin say that. If someone had broken into his apartment, why would they chose to light a candle below the curtain and wait for it to catch? Why not just pour gasoline all over the place and let it go up in flames? If they really wanted to cause a fire, then why not just make Griffin's apartment go up in a blaze?

"That's not why I asked you to wait for me, though," Griffin said, standing up and running his fingers through his hair. Griffin walked over to the entertainment center where his TV sat and bent down, opening up one of the bottom cabinets and pulling out a cardboard box, "This is the second time someone's broken into my apartment - "

"Did they see anyone come in?" I cut him off, a million questions running through my mind, "Did anyone check in at the lobby?"

With a slight grunt, Griffin lifted up the cardboard box and joined me on the couch again, "No. No one came in through the lobby. The hinges on my door were broken, but the cops said it seemed like someone did it from the inside."

It took me a second to let the absolute strangeness of that settle in. Someone had broken into his apartment and then broke the hinges on the door from the inside? If they were already inside the apartment, what was the point of even breaking the hinges? To make a point, perhaps? That they could get inside Griffin's apartment, even without the door? It didn't make sense.

"Anyway," Griffin said, flipping open the lid on the cardboard box, "there's been too many close calls. I know this is weird, but can you keep this in your apartment? If anything happens here, I'll die if this gets destroyed."

Griffin put the box on the table and stared pulling out its contents, showing me the inside.

And suddenly the table was filled with pictures of Griffin and his mom. Family pictures scattered across the table, along with notes signed with mom at the end, notebooks, and a few newspaper clippings. I looked down at the side of the box and felt my heart clench and break when I saw what was written on the side: mom.

I picked up a picture in front of me, a smile splitting across my face when I saw it. A young Griffin sat on his mom's lap, bright blue eyes wide, a huge smile on his face, arms wrapped around his mom. Griffin's mom was hugging him back, the same smile on her face as she stared down at her son.

God, how could such a seemingly carefree and happy boy like in the picture become so destroyed?

"Of course," I told Griffin, gently setting the picture down on the bottom of the box, "I'll put it somewhere safe, I promise."

"Thank you," Griffin said, fingers digging in tightly on the side of a picture of he and his mom, "These are all I have left and if anything happened to them, I don't know what I would do. I lost my mom once, but it won't happen again."

</ hey guys! last chapter we barely got any comments (I think like four) so please make are to comment and let me know your thoughts! I love hearing what you guys think :-) thank you!!

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