By the time I climbed back through the window, the smoke had already moved through most of the house.
The hallway was barely visible. Dark grey smoke rolled low across the ceiling and along the walls, turning everything into shapes and shadows. Each breath came back wrong, like the air had been replaced with something thicker and hotter that had no interest in filling lungs properly. My eyes watered immediately and I pressed my arm across my mouth and tried to blink through it.
I could hear my father's voice downstairs.
My mother's.
Then the screaming started.
