Page 60 of Fragile hearts

“I’m sorry. I can’t stand here. I watched my brother die, and I’m not watching him die too.”

“Don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare, Alexis. Please, I’m begging you, we’re almost there.”

“I’m really sorry. You are the best person I know. Thank you for these past few weeks. They were the happiest time of my life.”

“Alexis! Alexis, answer me!” I hang up the phone. And before I can think it through, I’m running. The front door is closed. I kick it as hard as I can. Over and over again, using all my force until it opens. Burning heat and intense smoke greet me. I cough, my eyes watering. I look around the room, not thinking of the possibility that he might already be dead. Or how babies’ lungs are much more delicate than adults’. I run up the stairs coughing, opening door after door, while it gets harder and harder to breathe.

The baby, think of the baby.

Smoke engulfs the hallway. There is one door I haven’t opened. My vision worsens. My chest vibrates with each breath. One door. The flames haven’t reached there yet. God, he needs to be in there.

I kick it open with the little strength I have left, and there he is, lying on his stomach, arms stretched above him, wearing nothing but a red romper. I don’t check to see if he’s breathing. I grab him, holding him against my chest.

It feels like the flames are in me. My breath stutters with each exhale. I manage to get downstairs, stumbling outside. Fresh air fills my lungs. I’m using every strength I have to hold the baby against my chest. I hear the familiar sound of sirens, but it sounds so far away, and I can’t breathe. I’m coughing and coughing. It feels like it will never stop.

God, my lungs are on fire. With burning eyes, I lower the baby to the grass. He’s still, so still, not crying, just lying there.

Please no, god no.

I want to help him. I know CPR, but my body is so tired. I can barely feel my legs, and my head is pounding.

I collapse on the grass, eyes closing and opening, burning with every blink.

Get up, the baby needs help. But I can’t do anything but lay there. The faint sound of doors closing fills my ears.

Someone drops down next to me. Two arms grab me by my shoulders, lifting me so I’m leaning against a chest.

“Breathe, baby, please, you need to breathe.”

“The baby,” I whisper through the coughing. “The baby.”

“They’re helping him, I promise they’re helping him.”

Voices behind us talk about something having a pulse. The baby. The baby had a pulse.

Oh thank fucking god.

I open my still watery eyes. My body sags in relief.

“Carson.”

He’s here. He’s really here.

I try to smile at him, but everything hurts.

He grins down at me, nodding repeatedly, pressing his lips on the top of my head, my cheek. Everywhere he can reach.

His heart is racing underneath my palms. His body trembles as he holds me. “Keep breathing, I’ve got you baby, just breathe.” My breaths stutter. I inhale the best I can.

“That’s it,” he praises, leaning his head on top of mine. “Breathe. I’ve got you…God baby I’m so proud—so incredibly pissed but so proud. Just keep breathing…Good just like that, that’s my girl.”

Air finally fills my lungs, my coughing lessens, and I see clearly again. “Carson,” I whisper. He strokes my cheek, his eyes flashing with fear, bone-deep fear.

“Are you okay?”

“You’re asking me if I’m okay? You just—you ran into a burning house!”

“I had to,” I murmur.