They're Gone, chapter 1
"Hey kid! Wake up! Get out of the house! It's on fire!"
I woke up with a figure shaking me awake. He looked like he was sixteen. He wasn't a relative; none of my family had green eyes like those. He stared at me.
"Are you going to get up? The fire's almost to the second floor."
Oh shit I thought.
I grabbed my slippers and looked towards him. The fire was almost to my door. He motioned for me to climb through the window. I must have looked scared cause he came up to me, out his hands on my waist, and helped me out.
Now I'm sitting in a tree. Great. I thought.
I didn't see him come out. I stuck my head in through the window. He was passed out on the floor. The fire was only a few feet away from him. I jumped back through the window leaving the disapproving calls of neighbors, police, firefighters, and paramedics behind.
"Hey! Wake Up! C'mon please wake up!" I yelled.
I decided to take him and push him out the window carefully. The fire was to my bed now, which was a few feet from where we were. He woke up just as I got him on the tree.
"What the fuck? Why am I here?! Hey! Let me help you, we don't want the fire to get you do we?" he said.
I held out my hand. He grabbed it, giving me hope. I climbed onto the branch of the tree. We looked at each other. God, his eyes where so beautiful. I was shivering in the cold night air. He hugged me, making me warm instantly. We sat there, waiting for the cops to tell us to get down.
"What's your name?" I asked once we got down.
"Billie Joe Armstrong. Yours?"
"Kayla Corey."
"Do you play any instruments?"
"I did. My guitar turned to toast in the fire."
"Oh that sucks ass. I play the guitar too. I'm in a band called Sweet Children."
"Cool. I was in a band, but we broke up because our bassist wanted to drop it and practice being an actor."
"Oh. Do you hang out at the Gilman? My band gets a few gigs there every now and then."
"I hang out there when I'm not at band practice. Well, now seeing there is no band, I'll be there more often."
"Cool. Shit. I got to go. Here call me. Maybe we can hang out sometime." He said as he scribbled his number on a piece of paper.
With that, he left me in my tank top and boxers, walking away from the fence to have the paramedics look at me.
I woke up with a figure shaking me awake. He looked like he was sixteen. He wasn't a relative; none of my family had green eyes like those. He stared at me.
"Are you going to get up? The fire's almost to the second floor."
Oh shit I thought.
I grabbed my slippers and looked towards him. The fire was almost to my door. He motioned for me to climb through the window. I must have looked scared cause he came up to me, out his hands on my waist, and helped me out.
Now I'm sitting in a tree. Great. I thought.
I didn't see him come out. I stuck my head in through the window. He was passed out on the floor. The fire was only a few feet away from him. I jumped back through the window leaving the disapproving calls of neighbors, police, firefighters, and paramedics behind.
"Hey! Wake Up! C'mon please wake up!" I yelled.
I decided to take him and push him out the window carefully. The fire was to my bed now, which was a few feet from where we were. He woke up just as I got him on the tree.
"What the fuck? Why am I here?! Hey! Let me help you, we don't want the fire to get you do we?" he said.
I held out my hand. He grabbed it, giving me hope. I climbed onto the branch of the tree. We looked at each other. God, his eyes where so beautiful. I was shivering in the cold night air. He hugged me, making me warm instantly. We sat there, waiting for the cops to tell us to get down.
"What's your name?" I asked once we got down.
"Billie Joe Armstrong. Yours?"
"Kayla Corey."
"Do you play any instruments?"
"I did. My guitar turned to toast in the fire."
"Oh that sucks ass. I play the guitar too. I'm in a band called Sweet Children."
"Cool. I was in a band, but we broke up because our bassist wanted to drop it and practice being an actor."
"Oh. Do you hang out at the Gilman? My band gets a few gigs there every now and then."
"I hang out there when I'm not at band practice. Well, now seeing there is no band, I'll be there more often."
"Cool. Shit. I got to go. Here call me. Maybe we can hang out sometime." He said as he scribbled his number on a piece of paper.
With that, he left me in my tank top and boxers, walking away from the fence to have the paramedics look at me.
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