Writing Challenge, DAY 2: “Smoke hung so thick in the library’s rafter that she could read words in it.”

“I said – I said I don’t remember what happened.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Blake, I told you that this room is confidential. Anything that’s said in here stays in here. It’s the law.”

“Dr., you are not understanding me. I don’t wanna talk about what happened that day.”

“This is a safe space. You can make some progress and be taken out of this place, or you can stay stubborn and I’ll multiply the dosage of your medication. I—”

“NO!” she screams, “No, no those – they make me groggy, you can’t…” Blake zones out thinking about the day that got her in this institution in the first place.

She remembers waking up, ashes leaving tracks on her skin. The blur in her eyes clears up once she smells the overwhelming amount of smoke. Her eyes flutter open, until she focuses on the ceiling. She’s seen it before, but where? She slowly lifts her neck up until it feels like the saliva in her throat has been suctioned. She coughs, more like heaves. Taking in her surroundings, there’s a sea of books swallowing her legs and the fog makes it hard to see just about anything else. The library, she thinks. But how did she end up there?

Now, more alert, she squawks “Hello?!” Nobody answers, but the sirens – the screeching sirens – are all she can hear now. Removing the brush and books off of her frail corpse, she stands up, swaying slightly. Smoke hung so thick in the library’s rafter that she could read words in it. I need to get out of here, she thinks. Her eyeballs, moving like tadpoles, searched for a way out.

Water soon came trickling down, clearing up some of the smoke. She coughed until her throat was on fire and squinted until she saw a beam of light. Running straight towards the hope she clung to, she was then pulled down as she tripped over a large object. Coughing, she looked up to see blazing flames eat the wooden shelves her school library once held. She looked around until her eyes came to the floor.

“Principle Collins?!” her eyes went wide. She shook him slightly, “Principle Collins! Can you hear me?!” His eyes became slits.

“What – what have you done, kid?” he whispered until the slits closed. Her eyebrows furrowed, as confusion took over. At that moment, the door flung open, with bumblebee figures buzzing through the entrance.

“I’m over here!” She shouted, until it felt like her throat was betraying her. She coughed some more. Her eyes began to close as she lay with her principle. The next thing she remembers is cradling in the arms of a bumblebee as the voices of a crowd grew fainter and fainter.

“That girl killed my son!” one said.

“She set the school on fire!” another declared. And then, darkness.

“Blake, Blake? Blake?” The doctor tries to look into her eyes.

“I didn’t – I didn’t do it! I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it, I didn’t – didn’t, I didn’t—” Blake shakes her head incessantly.

“Blake. Focus on me, Blake. It’s Dr. Wilson. Focus.” He pulls out a small flashlight, shining it into her eyes.

“I didn’t do it!” She yells.

“Blake.” She looks at him, chest heaving uncontrollably.

“I,” Blake looks around the room, gripping the sides of the table in front of her. Her eyes find their way to Dr. Wilson. “I remember waking up in the library.” Across the table, Dr. Wilson begins taking notes on his clipboard.