Before the fire, I was the prettiest girl in the eight grade. I still remember when boys used to always whistle when I passed by, and the noticeable facial expression change of jealous girls when they did it. It really humored me and my best friend, Bailey. Here I am, naturally pretty. I didn’t even have to wake up really early just to do my hair and makeup. I didn’t have to do anything but comb my hair and put on lip gloss, and bam! all eyes on me.
I was a very interesting pretty. My eyes changed colors constantly; I have natural light brown highlights in my hair. It easily showed because the rest of my hair was pitch black. My completion golden brown, my hour glass figure… I felt like no one was better than me.











But now I’m hideous.

Three hours before the fire, I was on the laptop lying on my comfortable queen size bed. I was on Facebook chatting with my crush, Brian. I always liked him. I guess it was because he was the only boy that didn’t stare at me constantly or text me all the time. I always started conversation first. And I liked that. I once heard that people always want what they can’t have. He was the only person I couldn’t persuade easily. We were talking about the prep rally that was going to be the next day. I told him about how I was excited to cheerlead in front on the school for the first time.
Right when we got to the interesting part on the conversation he typed “ttyl.”I was disappointed, until I looked at the time. ‘Eleven o’clock! Oh shoot, I forgot I have to wake up early tomorrow!’ I thought. I was so caught up in Brian I forgot about the rest of the world. My cheerleading squad had to be at school at seven in the morning the next day.
I was already in my pajamas, so I just turned off the light and lyed back down. I couldn’t really go to sleep. The murmuring of my parents and family friends down stairs was too loud.
They were in the dining room. It wasn’t really anything on the dining room table except bowls of different kinds of fruit. That’s all my mom usually put on the table when a small amount of people come over. She couldn’t cook, she even burned spaghetti. There were three couples in the dining room. They were all middle aged. Tracy and Henry, Mrs. and Mr. Williams, and Elizabeth and George. I liked them all very much, except how Tracy and Henry were always all over each other (they were newly-wed).
But any who, that night my mom gave an extra shot at cooking. I went to sleep slowly imagining how my mom would look when her food burns once again.








I awoke to strong smelling smoke.

I immediately opened my eyes when my nostrils were filled with coal- smelling smoke. I coughed. I opened my eyes and my room was filled with black smoke. The fire alarm was on. I wondered how long it’s been on, because I was a very heavy sleeper. But beyond that, I wondered where my parents were. I wanted to call out, but as soon as I inhaled I coughed once again. I closed my eyes and decided I would have to feel my way downstairs. Even though my eyes were closed, the lightness of the fire I could see through my eyelids. I opened them. The stairs were on fire! I panicked. ‘What can I do God? Please help me.’ But I knew the only way to get outside was to go down the stairs. I was on the third floor, and there was no way I could jump. I couldn’t hear sirens outside; no one was coming to the rescue—yet.
Beyond my own belief, I ran downstairs as fast as I could. My clothes caught on fire and I felt it burn through and hit my skin. But that was only near my ankles. ‘I’d rather have burns on my ankles than die.’ I couldn’t help thinking that.

Then….. I tripped. I didn’t have time to scream. All the sounds disappeared. Then everything went black.


A couple of days later, I awoke in a hospital. It hurt to open my eyes, and I couldn’t feel the rest of my body. I slowly opened my eyes. It was blurry, but seconds later my eyes adjusted to the light. There was a small nurse sitting next to the hospital bed. She was reading a magazine. I was trying to ask what was going on but I could hardly make a sound.
The nurse looked at me. She kind of jumped, but then she relaxed. She stood up. Her hair was in a high bun, and she wore very thick rectangular glasses. “Don’t say a word, sweetie.” She said. Her voice was very high-pitched. She had a concern look in her eyes. “ I know you are probably wondering what happened, in case you don’t remember.” I tried to track my thoughts down to where I was before I woke up. But it was painful to even think. “You were in a fire, sweetie. That was about four days ago. And you were in a coma.”
I thought she was going to hold my hand or something to reassure me, but she didn’t. I wondered why. My heart raced. ‘What do I look like now?’ I thought. With all my might, I turned to look at my hand.


They were black and had pink and white puss all over it. My fingers were bent over. I never saw anything like that in my life. There was a long silence.

Then I remembered my parents. They would surely be in here if they weren’t hurt. The nurse read my mind. “ I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but…” I saw tears run down her cheeks. “ Your father died. He rescued you, if it wasn’t for him, you would be dead.” If I was physically able to, I would’ve cried, ran, prayed, screamed, and jumped. It was all too much for me to handle.










My life will never be the same.

TO BE CONTINUED….