~Dahlia's POV~
Fire.
It was everywhere, licking at the furniture, the curtains, and burning at the figure of my mother laying not so far away from me like it was a bonfire.
The golden hue lit up the whole house, blowing deadly smoke into the air, fumes which filled my lungs and made breathing difficult. A cough wracked my entire body, and I shuddered when I spat out a very thick phlegm.
…then came the blood.
But despite the fear and grief gnawing at my bones, and the feel of imminent death looming over me, I couldn't bring myself to scream for help. I couldn't move my limbs. I couldn't even speak.
I could only cry.
Because that roasting flesh, that unmoving charred person is my mother! And my sibling… now dead inside of her.
