Chapter 53

Chapter 53

LOUISA’S POV

The world around me was melting.

I could feel it in the way my skin prickled and my lungs clawed for air. Every breath I took felt like I was swallowing knives. My vision blurred, not from tears, though I had cried, but from the thick smoke curling and swallowing me.

I’d given up. There was no one coming. No miracle, no mercy. I’d accepted that this was where it would end, strapped to a bed like an animal and forgotten by everyone.

It was strange, though. The moment I stopped fighting, everything went quiet. The crackling fire became a distant hum, my heartbeat slowed, almost peaceful. I thought about the people in my life I had found on my dying bed. They would never know I lived all these years.

If there was a heaven, maybe I’d see them again.

Then something crashed.

A sharp, jarring thud ripped through the haze. I thought the sound was from inside my head, but no, it came from the door. My body flinched instinctively, the restraints digging deeper into my wrists.

Another loud thud followed. For a moment, I thought it was the fire itself breaking through the wood, the heat finally too much for it to bear. But then came a voice. Someone was shouting.

I blinked against the smoke, coughing until black spots danced in my vision. “Help,” I tried to say, but it came out weak.

The sound grew louder. The door shuddered under impact. And then, with a deafening crack, it burst open, exploding inward in a wave of smoke and orange light.

A tall, broad-shouldered figure stumbled through, moving fast despite the chaos. For a second, I couldn’t tell if he was real or some ghost sent to drag me out of this half-life. The firelight warped everything, painting him in as a shadow.

He was coughing too, squinting against the heat. “Aria!” he shouted, voice hoarse. “Stay with me, you hear me?”

My throat burned too much to answer. My eyes watered as he pushed closer, dodging a wood that crashed beside him. He reached the bed, panting hard. When he saw the restraints, his expression cracked open with horror.

“Who did this to you?” he rasped. “God—” He grabbed at the straps, tugging, yanking with everything he had.

“They won’t…” I coughed, choking on smoke. “They won’t move… leave me. Please… go.”

He ignored me completely, still pulling at the buckles. “Not happening,” he said between gritted teeth. “I didn’t find you just to lose you again.”

The words hit something deep inside me. The familiarity of his voice, the way he said “again.” My confused mind couldn’t connect the pieces, but my heart already knew.

He cursed under his breath as one strap finally snapped loose, metal biting into his hand. Blood smeared across the sheet, but he didn’t stop. His hands moved quickly, tugging at the bindings on my other wrist.

The fire was louder now, crawling up the curtains, spitting sparks across the floor. The ceiling groaned, threatening to cave.

“Please,” I tried again, voice trembling. “You’ll die.”

“Then we die together,” he said sharply. “But I’m not leaving you here.”

I wanted to argue, but my strength was fading fast. My eyelids were too heavy, my chest too tight, every breath was like dragging a broken glass through my lungs. He yanked again and the second restraint broke free. I gasped as my arm fell limp to my side. He moved to my legs, his hands shaking.

“Stay with me,” he kept saying. “Stay with me, please.”

The heat pressed in as my skin felt like it was being peeled away, the air so thick I could barely draw it in. My vision flickered between the fire and the shadowed line of his jaw. Perspiration clouded his forehead, dropping across his brow and there was pure panic in his eyes.

Finally, the last strap gave way.

He didn’t even pause. He scooped me into his arms, ignoring the burning debris around us. His shirt stuck to my skin, slick with sweat. I wanted to tell him to stop, that it wasn’t worth it, but all that came out was a strangled sound.

He adjusted his hold, shielding my body with his own. “I’ve got you,” he whispered. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

We weren’t okay. The fire was everywhere now, swallowing the walls as the ceiling was now raining embers. He turned his face away from the heat, pushing forward through the inferno.

The floorboards cracked beneath his boots. Every few steps, he had to stop and catch his breath, coughing violently. I could feel the tremors running through his body, the strength slipping with each exhale.

I wanted to help, to move, but my limbs wouldn’t listen. The edges of my vision were going soft.

“Don’t close your eyes!” he shouted, voice raw. “Hey! Look at me!”

I tried. God, I tried. But the smoke was too thick, and my head felt so heavy.

We stumbled through the door frame. He ducked low, pressing me close as burning plaster fell from above. The hallwall further was worse as the walls began to collapse. He turned away from one falling beam just in time, the wood catching his shoulder with a sickening crack, but he didn’t stop.

Somewhere in the distance, I heard sirens wail. The fire alarms screamed above us, though it was almost drowned out by the roar of the fire.

His breathing came ragged now. “Almost there,” he muttered, like he was talking to himself. “Just a little more.”

The smoke was so thick I couldn’t tell where we were anymore. My skin stung, my throat shredded with each breath. I could feel myself slipping away again. He must have felt it too because his grip tightened.

“No,” he said, shaking his head like he could will me back. “Don’t you dare.”

I wanted to tell him not to cry, that it wasn’t his fault, that I was already gone long before the fire ever started. But all that came out was a whisper: “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he said fiercely, his voice breaking. “You hear me? It’s not okay!”

He pushed forward, finally bursting through a doorway that led into the open night. The cold air hit like a slap. For a second, everything stopped. We were outside.

He stumbled a few feet before his knees gave out. We hit the ground together, my head limping against his chest. He was shaking, coughing hard, trying to wave off the firefighters rushing toward us.

“She’s not breathing!” he shouted. His voice cracked on the words. “Please, she’s not—”

Hands pulled at me, lifting my body away from his. I caught a glimpse of flashing red lights, the blur of uniforms, someone shouting orders. But I didn’t feel anything anymore. Not the pain, not the smoke. Nothing. Just lightness.

I could still hear him though, begging me not to gie up.

“Please wake up,” he kept saying, over and over, like maybe if he said it enough, it would undo death itself. “Please, I can’t lose you again.” I wanted to tell him that he didn’t lose me but I couldn’t. I didn’t even know what my fate would be.

I felt someone pressing on my chest, counting, shouting numbers. I wanted to open my eyes, to let them know I was still there, but it was getting harder and harder to stay. And in that last flicker of consciousness, I saw him clearly for the first time.

I wanted to tell him that I remembered everything about my childhood. I wanted to tell him just how badly I have missed him. But the word never came and the light faded softly and then there was silence.

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