It had been a calm night at the Brandt household, the kind of evening where nothing seemed amiss. Florence's parents were settling down after dinner, and she was tucked in bed, her mind drifting into dreams. The house was quiet and dark, all lights off except for the soft glow of the lamp on Florence's nightstand. But that didn't last very long. The serenity of the night was shattered in an instant when flames erupted, quickly consuming the house. Smoke filled the air, and the crackling of burning wood drowned out all other sounds.

Suddenly, the calmness of the evening was interrupted by a loud crash from downstairs, and Florence jolted awake. Florence woke up in a panic, the heat and smoke overwhelming her senses. She didn't know it, but the fire started downstairs and had been caused by a faulty wire in the old kitchen stove. Florence's mom had often complained about the old stove, but her dad insisted on keeping it since it still worked. Unfortunately, tonight, the old stove had finally given out, causing a massive blaze that spread quickly. The ten year old girl's heart raced as she realized what was happening. Flames were already creeping up the walls, their orange glow flickering eerily in her small room. The heat was intense, and she could barely breathe, the thick, acrid smoke burning her throat and filling her lungs with each panicked gasp.

"Dad! Mama!" Florence cried out, her voice breaking. The fire hadn't got to her room yet thankfully, but the smoke was beginning to become too much. She didn't know if her parents were even alive, or if the house would hold together long enough for them to escape. But Florence didn't want to give up hope, not when she was still alive. She tried to stay calm, knowing that panicking would only make things worse.

"Florence!" She heard her father shout her name and Florence breathed a sigh of relief. Her father was still alive. "I'll come and get you, I promise!" He yelled and Florence's heart leapt. Her dad was going to save her, he wouldn't let anything happen to her. But she had to get out of this room, she couldn't stay here. Florence glanced around the room, her eyes watering from the smoke and the tears. She didn't want to leave her room behind. Everything she loved and cherished was here, and it was all about to go up in flames. But there was no way to save the room, she had to leave everything behind. Though there was one thing she desperately couldn't leave behind, a small plush rabbit. She grabbed it and she put shoes on quickly before scrambling out of her room.

The fire had almost reached the staircase by now and Florence was running out of time. The heat from the flames was unbearable, and the smoke stung her eyes. Florence clutched her bunny close, afraid that she might lose it or it might catch on fire. Fire almost surrounded downstairs, thankfully there was still what seemed to be a narrow path to the staircase and to the front door. Florence took a deep breath and bolted for the stairs. But before she could make it down the stairs, a loud creak echoed through the house, and the wooden beams above her began to crack and groan under the intense heat. Florence froze in place, her heart pounding in her chest as she looked up, realizing that the ceiling above was about to collapse. She knew she had to move fast, but fear rooted her to the spot. One piece fell, barely hitting her, but it hit her enough for her to feel the heat of the flames. It spurred her into action, and she ran, taking the steps two at a time.

She had made it halfway down the stairs when another beam gave way, sending a shower of sparks and burning debris down around her. Florence screamed, her small body instinctively ducking as she tried to shield herself with the plush rabbit. The heat was suffocating, and her lungs burned with every breath she took. She knew she couldn't stop, couldn't hesitate — not if she wanted to survive. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, the fire roared, consuming everything in its path. Florence's vision blurred from the smoke and tears, but she could see the front door in the distance, slightly ajar, as if beckoning her toward safety. She sprinted for it, her heart pounding in her ears, the sound of the flames deafening. Just as she was about to reach the door, she felt a searing pain on the side of her face. The intense heat had finally caught up to her, and she cried out in agony as the skin on her cheek burned. The pain was unlike anything she had ever felt, and for a moment, she was sure she wouldn't make it.

But then, through the haze of pain and fear, Florence heard her father's voice again — closer this time. "Flory! I'm here!" He burst through the flames, his eyes wide with terror as he saw his daughter struggling to escape. Without a second thought, he rushed to her side, scooping her up in his arms.

"I've got you, Flory. You're going to be okay." He murmured, his voice trembling with emotion as he carried her toward the door. The flames licked at their heels, the fire roaring louder as it consumed the last of the house. Florence buried her face in her father's shoulder, clutching the rabbit tightly, the smell of smoke and burning wood overwhelming her senses. She cried into his shoulder, the pain on the side of her face unlike anything she'd ever experienced. She'd never been in so much pain, and she was certain that she'd never been this scared before. Her father kicked the door open, and the cool night air greeted them as they escaped the burning house. As the cool air touched her skin, the pain from the burns subsided slightly, and Florence was finally able to catch her breath. She looked up at her father, tears streaming down her soot-streaked face.

"Mama?" Florence asked quietly, her voice hoarse from crying and inhaling smoke. Her father's face crumpled at the mention of his wife and glanced behind them, realizing she wasn't behind them like he thought. His wife had reassured him she'd follow him out, but it was clear to Florence's father she was stuck. He noticed the house could collapse any moment, but he still had to save his wife, he couldn't leave her behind.

"Don't worry Florry, I'll go back and get her." He told her, and his words filled Jo with dread. She knew what he was saying, he was going back into the house and would probably not make it out alive.

"I'll be right back, stay here." He adds. Florence couldn't even protest, her father had set her on the ground, kissing her forehead. "I love you, baby girl." He told her and ran into the burning house. Florence called after him, sobbing as she watched her father disappear into the flames. Her face was still in so much pain, she was now sitting on the ground in her pjs and crying uncontrollably. The plush rabbit she had clung to was now soaked with tears, and she felt utterly helpless. Every second that passed felt like an eternity, and Florence's heart raced with fear and desperation. The ten year old sat on the ground and sobbed, waiting for her father and mother to return. She prayed for a miracle, hoping that somehow, they would both emerge unscathed from the inferno.

She hadn't even realized her best friend and next door neighbor, Phillip Carlyle, had ran over to her. She was so engulfed in her despair, she didn't realize he'd been calling her name until he crouched beside her and shook her gently to try to snap her out of it. He was the same age as Florence, and they'd known each other their entire lives. They went to school together and they played together, they were practically inseparable.

"Hey, Florence..." He starts, his voice wavering slightly as he tried to hide the fact that he was scared. His parents along with others in the neighbor were watching the blaze, and he'd slipped away without them noticing. Phillip had been woken up by the smell of the fire, and he'd been worried about his best friend. When he saw her sitting outside, alone and crying, his heart broke. "What happened?" He asked her, concern written all over his face. Then he noticed something that made the tears in his eyes well up more. He gently gripped her chin, turning her head so he could see her cheek. She'd been burnt on the right side of her face, and it was a sight that made him feel sick.

"There was a fire and...My parents...They..." Florence couldn't even finish her sentence. Phillip pulled her into his arms, hugging her close. He could feel her body trembling as she sobbed, her tears soaking his shirt. He didn't know what to say, he was at a loss for words. But he wanted to try to comfort her, even though he knew that nothing he could say or do would make this better.

"I'm sorry..." Was all he could muster, and the words sounded hollow to his own ears. Florence clung to him, her knuckles turning white as she gripped his shirt. They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, neither of them saying a word. The only sound was the crackling of the fire as it destroyed the house and everything inside it. Even the neighbors were too stunned to speak, their faces pale as they watched the tragedy unfold before them. The firefighters eventually arrived, and the scene was chaos as they fought to contain the blaze. People were shouting, the flames were roaring, and the night air was thick with smoke. Phillip's parents eventually realized their son had snuck away, and they ran over, panicked when they didn't see their son at first.

"Phillip? Oh, thank goodness!" His mother said, sighing with relief when she found him and saw he was alright. "You need to get back to the house, this isn't safe." She chastised him, but the scolding was half-hearted. She was just glad her son was safe and unharmed.

"Mom...Florence..." He paused, his throat tightening as he struggled to hold back his tears. He couldn't find the words to tell her what had happened, so he just gestured to his best friend who was still crying. She had her face buried in his shoulder, just her left side because the right side of her face was burning. The boy's mother followed her son's gaze, and her eyes widened as she took in the sight. Her face fell, and the color drained from her face. She stepped back, a hand over her mouth as she tried to process what she was seeing.

"Oh, dear..." She gasped, tears welling up in her eyes. Phillip's father was beside her, equally shocked and horrified by the sight. Neither of them knew what to do or say, and the only thing that could be heard was the crackling of the fire as it continued to burn.

Florence didn't bother to listen to them. Everything sounded like a muffled, incoherent noise, anyway. She didn't want to keep looking at her burning childhood home, but she couldn't bring herself to look away either. There were firefighters trying to put out the flames, but they were fighting a losing battle. The flames were too strong, and the house was collapsing in on itself. Her parents were nowhere to be seen, and she feared the worst. She was terrified, and the pain on her face was unbearable. It was like her skin was melting off, and she felt like she was going to pass out.

The night air was cold, but she didn't feel it. The only thing she could feel was the burning on her face and the tightness in her chest. Her tears continued to flow, and her sobs grew louder and more desperate. Phillip was holding her, doing his best to comfort her, but it was useless. The pain was too much, and her heart was broken. Her world had been turned upside down, and she didn't know how to cope. All she could do was cry and pray that this was all a nightmare, and that she would wake up soon. But this was real, and it was going to take her a long time to heal. Soon a paramedic rushed over after some neighbors pointed out she had gotten hurt and hurried her to the ambulance. Phillip insisted on going with her, not letting go of the death grip he had on her hand as he followed her to the ambulance. They had tried to pry him off and reassure him his friend would be alright, but he didn't budge. He wasn't leaving her side.

"Phillip, go home. I'm fine." Florence said, her voice cracking. But her words didn't match the look on her face, and she didn't even believe her own lie. Phillip was having none of it, shaking his head.

Despite the cold metal of the stretcher beneath her, Florence could barely feel anything but the pain from her burns and the ache in her heart. Phillip stayed by her side, silent and resolute. He wasn't letting her go, no matter how many times the paramedics gently insisted. Florence's head swam as they raced through the streets, the pain making her dizzy. The image of her burning home, with her parents trapped inside, replayed over and over in her mind. It was like a nightmare she couldn't wake from, and no amount of comfort could stop the overwhelming sense of loss from creeping in.

He ignored the upset looks on his parents faces before the doors closed. He knew he would most likely get a lecture or something later, but he didn't care. Florence was his best friend, and he wasn't going to leave her alone. He'd seen the burns, and his heart ached for her. The ride to the hospital was short, and the two kids didn't say a word to each other. They didn't have to, they just sat in silence and held hands.

When they got to the hospital, the nurses immediately took Florence away to treat her. Phillip had to be held back by his parents, as the doctors wouldn't let him into the room with her. His heart ached, and he was filled with guilt as he realized he was being forced to leave her alone. But it was out of his control, and there was nothing he could do. So he waited. And waited. And waited.

He blocked out his parents scolding him as he sat in the waiting room, and his mind raced with all the possibilities. What if Florence didn't make it? He knew that was unlikely, from what he saw just the half of her face got burnt, but he doesn't know what will happen. He never seen anything like it happen before. And his imagination was running wild, and the fear and worry ate him alive. It was taking forever, and he couldn't stop the tears from rolling down his face. He just wanted to know if his best friend was alright.

"Phillip!" At hearing his mom's voice, the ten-year-old boy snapped out of his thoughts and glanced up. She looked annoyed, but also concerned. He had tuned them out, and he was surprised they hadn't left him yet.

"What?" He asked, wiping the tears from his face. He tried his best to put on a brave face, but he couldn't stop his lower lip from trembling.

"Were you even listening to us?" His mother questions, and he shrugs, glancing down. "We're going home." She added, and his eyes widened, looking back up at her.

"Wait, what?" Phillip protests. "But I can't go! Florence needs me, I have to stay!" He pleaded, but his parents weren't having it. His father was getting irritated, his jaw set as he stood.

"She'll be fine. The doctors are taking care of her. Now, we're going home. We're tired, and you've disobeyed us enough." He told him, grabbing Phillip's arm and forcing him to stand up.

"But, dad—" Phillip tried to protest, but his father wouldn't hear it.

"No, enough, Phillip. I don't want to hear another word from you." He snapped, and his mother nodded in agreement.

"Your father is right. You need to stop worrying and let the doctors take care of her. Florence will be fine. Now, let's go." She added, giving Phillip a look that told him this was final. But anger burned in the pit of his stomach.

"You've been scolding me for helping my best friend and now you're telling me to just leave her behind?!" He snapped, tears stinging his eyes.

"Yes, because you shouldn't have gone to the burning house to begin with, Phillip!" His mother replies. "You could've gotten yourself hurt or worse." She added.

"You guys are acting like you don't even care about her anymore just because she got burned!" Phillip realizes, his eyes widening. "Is that it? You don't care because she has scars on her face?! Because she looks different now?" He added. 

He wasn't dumb. He wasn't naïve. He knew how things were in this world, and it wasn't kind. Especially the high society wasn't kind to anyone who wasn't perfect. And a half a burned face? That was enough for them to throw her out and abandon her. The fact that his parents weren't trying harder to get him to stay showed him that his assumption was right. The fact that his parents weren't protesting, trying to correct him and show him he was wrong showed him that his assumptions were right. And that thought alone made him sick to his stomach. He knew he was right. And the look of guilt on their faces told him he was. 

"I can't believe you guys." He added, tears welling up in his eyes. His parents were quiet, not saying a word. Their silence told him all he needed to know, and the realization made him feel even more sick. They had abandoned her because she was scarred. Because now she was possibly an orphan, because her family had perished in the fire. Florence was no longer part of the perfect picture his parents wanted to maintain in their social circle. It was heartbreaking, and Phillip felt utterly betrayed.

He yanked his arm out of his father's grip and stepped back. "I'm not leaving her," He said, voice trembling but filled with determination. "You may not care, but I do. Florence is my best friend, and I'm not going to abandon her just because you think she's no longer good enough."

His parents exchanged a glance, both his parents looked conflicted and they didn't seem to know what to say. His mother opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it. His father looked furious, his nostrils flaring and his cheeks turning red. "We'll talk about this at home," He said through gritted teeth, and Phillip knew that was the end of the conversation. His father's tone left no room for argument, and his mother just shook her head, looking disappointed. "Now, come on." His father added, and without another word, Phillip's parents left. The ten-year-old boy watched them go, feeling conflicted. He knew they were mad at him, but he didn't care. He was angry too. Angry and sad and scared. But above all, he was worried about Florence. He wanted to stay, he didn't want to leave her. But he knew that if he didn't, his parents would come back and drag him out, even if he was kicking and screaming.

So, with a heavy heart, Phillip reluctantly started walking to the exit, pausing when he saw a doctor walking towards him. He momentarily forgot about his parents and rushed up to the man. "Excuse me, sir, can you tell me how Florence is doing? Florence Brandt, she was brought in a little while ago. She got caught in a house fire-"

"Hey, take a deep breath, kid," The doctor interrupts him, and Phillip took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Your friend is fine. She'll recover." He reassured him.

Relief washed over Phillip, and the boy's shoulders sagged as the tension left his body. "Can I see her?" He asked.

"She's asleep right now, but you can see her in the morning. She will be staying here for a while, and I'm afraid we can't have any visitors this late." The doctor informs him, and Phillip sighed. He didn't want to leave, but he knew there was nothing he could do. "Don't worry, kid. Your friend is going to be fine." The doctor adds. "Yes, she will have some scarring, but it could've been much worse. She's lucky to be alive." He patted Phillip on the shoulder and then left, and Phillip watched him go. 

The relief he felt was short-lived, though, as the reality of the situation sank in. Florence was going to be okay, but she was still an orphan. Phillip didn't technically know if her parents were dead, but the possibility was there. And the thought made him feel sick. The thought of his best friend, all alone in the world, made him want to cry. He turned and left the hospital, wiping away the tears that stung his eyes. He's surprised to find his parents waiting for him, and they were quiet as they drove home.

Despite his parents promising him that night they will let him see her in the morning, that promise was broke and that was the last time he has ever saw his best friend again. He never gave up hope though that one day, he'll be reunited with her. That he'll see her again. But with the way things were going, he didn't think that would ever happen.