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I close my eyes and wait, the smell of smoke filling my nose, my head, my soul. My heart beats faster, and then grows slow again in its rhythmic venture. The screaming has stopped, its guiding presence leaving me dimly aware of my surroundings. Without that voice, there is no reason to continue fighting the impossible. I’m left alone in a red world.

 I think of the outside, of the greens and blues that shine on in some corners of the countryside. I think of everything I’ve had and everything I’ve lost. I remember faces, eyes in particular. Some I remember, smiling. Others cause my own to tear, or at least I believe it is the sentiment and not just the ash. All around me the flames rise. I sink to the floor, my back against an as yet un-charred pillar. One pair of eyes stands out among all the rest. I try not to see them. I try not to imagine the way they’ll look when someone mentions my name.

I breathe deeply, the mask wearing itself thin. Resigned, I pull it off and drop it beside me, feeling the fire of heat fill my lungs in that terrible, familiar, lustrous way that keeps one’s senses begging always for one last gasp of fresh winter air. I hear shouting through a wooden muffler, cries of hard-working men that will fight this monster with every last drop of will that they possess, all for me. All for me.

But it doesn’t matter anymore. So I blink once more, and my eyes see into hers. After that I close them and wait, as the red monster reaches out for me.