Love's Decisions

I boarded the car as the sun rose high in the sky, looking down at my hands. I smiled as I saw the black ink that formed a number – Ryan’s number. We had planned to meet up this summer. I felt warm as I thought about his floppy blonde hair, and his ice blue eyes. I even liked his irritating cockiness.
But I was happy to be going back home. I missed my parents this weekend, and I was looking forward to seeing them again.

We turned into my road and that’s when I noticed it. The panicked people running and talking hurriedly, seeming alarmed. The occurrence of these panicked people multiplied as I drew closer and closer to my house.
Then I saw flames. The driver was forced to stop a few feet away from my house by police, who were banding together to contain the crowds. I got out of the car quickly and pushed past the thick crowds, towards my house. The policemen hadn’t noticed me going past their barrier, and I continued to run faster and faster towards my house. I was maybe 10 or 15 feet away from my house, when a policeman had spotted me. I saw him gathering a few policemen to chase me, out of the corner of my eye. I ran faster towards my house and stopped as I came face to face with it.

There were flames everywhere, and most of the house had been engulfed in fire. My mind instantly snapped into thinking about finding my parents, and I searched desperately – combing the destruction with my eyes to find them.

The loudness of the silence screamed in my ears, as fire blazed in my eyes. Destruction and despair had spread across this once suburban home, and all that I had known and loved had been shattered. They lay on the floor like rag dolls, arms twisted inversely and mouths slightly parted. The top floor slowly came crashing down upon them, hiding them from my view. Time seemed to move slowly, as I ran through the rubble towards them, desperately clawing at the blocks of cement in order to un-earth their faces. My fingers and hands bled thoroughly as they were scratched by the remnants of what I used to love. The sirens of police and screams of people echoed around me, before it all stopped. The sound, the movement, the colours flashing past my eyes in an angry haze of red and yellow. My breathing had stopped too, and all that pounded in my head was my slowed heart pace. The cement had finally given way underneath my despairing and searching hands, and I saw their faces, covered in bruises and cuts. Their glassy eyes stared back at me, and I couldn’t remember how to blink or swallow away the dryness in my throat.
Somewhere in the distance, I felt hands grabbing my upper arms and dragging me away. And I did all that I could think to do. I let out a shrill scream, my arms and legs clawing manically at those that pulled me away. My face was a portrait of anger, and even I would have scared myself, had it not been for my eyes. They were dull and lifeless. They were no longer ice blue, but a pale grey. The irises were minute, and they showed signs of hopelessness. My body was fighting, but my heart had given up.