A.R: 10

She fell back onto the bed, uttering an exasperated sigh as she landed.

They had been caught up in the moment. She had been so focussed on insults that her rational thinking had fled her.

But, she had meant what she had said about Rae. There was never a day where she had felt good enough. Each day was a blow to her self-esteem and she had gotten sick of it.

So why was she feeling guilty when they were both in the wrong?

V allowed her body to go limp, exhaustion sweeping over her as if kissing her to sleep. It wasn’t going to be a sweet one, she knew, but it was much needed. As her mind drifted, her heartbeats slowed and her breathing steadied. She dreamt of home, of the hotel her and Rae would stay in. She dreamt of those days where life was a normal as it could have been; Rae would go out and do what he was best and she would stay inside, in the comfort of her room. She missed the flashing lights, the bustling streets, the lung-clogging smell.

Lung-clogging smell?

V coughed, sitting up as she looked around. Black pillows of smoke were drifting through the door, nearly covering the room. She walked wearily towards the door, placing a hand against it. Immediately, she snatched her hand away from the searing-hot door.

What was happening?

A loud cackle cracked across the room. The bed she had just been on was in ruins, the bedsheets ash and the wood aflame.

The hut was on fire.

As he strolled, V’s words had become clearer to him and no more a jumble: she was feeling so trapped by his criticism to the point where she started to believe every thing he had said about her.

Despite how horrible he had been being, he was quite impressed that he had held that much power over V, yet he quickly dismissed the thought, telling himself that it was too wicked for him to consider.

Miraculously, he had found his way back to the entrance of the hotel. There were more people out than when he had left. The sky had gone dark, but the people were illuminated by something. Probably a bonfire.

Did people still have bonfires?

As he walked, undisturbedly, a few people sprinted past him, the ones catching his eye a man with hair a dangerously bright shade of green and a woman carrying a sleeping baby. Rae raised an eyebrow as he watched them run, curious of what exactly was the threat.

Something was wrong, he was beginning to understand. The air was thicker and the atmosphere oddly quiet, as if waiting for the big climax to emerge. Weren’t people usually loud at bonfires?

As he rounded the corner, his eyes caught a flicker of something outstandingly bright. He paused, realizing that something was indeed on fire. And it wasn’t a pile of sticks.

A crowd of people were throwing water from the docks onto the wooden cabin, but their actions were of no use. The furious flames roared each time water was thrown onto it, as if it was retaliating.

He ignored them – the situation didn’t concern him – and began counting the huts (it was too dark for him to see the numbers at the front). He neared his number, expecting to see V waiting outside but instead landing on the hut that was ablaze.

He counted again. And again. And for the fourth time, it made sense to him.

V was in that cabin.

The thought swarmed his mind as he trudged towards the hut, still unsure whether he was incorrect. The flames swallowed the residence, its bright tails flickering almost menacingly. As if daring the people to put it out.

Questions bled into his mouth, his thoughts not enough space to storage them all.

‘Get more water.’ He whispered, quietly at first. When he realized that no one had responded, he began to shout. He gave orders to the bystanders, oblivious that many of the people didn’t understand English.

‘We are trying!’ One man yelled back, grunting as he splashed a bucket full of water onto the building. Panic was beginning to settle in and he felt nauseuous. He fell upon a pile of sand, flinging it at the house haphazardly. Handfuls of sand and water were flung from all sides but nothing was working.

Nothing was working.

Exhausted, Rae fell to the ground defeatedly, his body trembling a he smashed his forehead onto the sand below and continued to do so.

It was quiet. Silent. The grunting of the people faded into nothingness, the crackle of the fire simply a blur. He stayed on the ground, his breathing staggered. Nothing was working.

He didn’t even know her real name for goodness’s sake. And she was going to die. And nothing would work.

Nothing he was doing would work.

Nothing was working.