“Layla?! Can you hear me?” a man who looked to be in his early thirties yelled as loud as he could through the smoke-filled hallways of the unburned section of the first floor.
“Dad, are you there?” a small voice called from two rooms over, as the coughing eleven year old girl stumbles out of it. She is in matching soft light pink pajama top and bottom, her straight black hair bouncing against her shoulders and back as she coughs through the smoke.
“Layla,” rushing to his daughter and checking her for any kind of injury, “are you alright? Let’s get you out of here.”
“Dad what’s going on?” she looked at her father with fear in her large dark brown eyes.
He looks down at the frightened child, picks her up, and begins to carry her down the hall to the back entrance of the mansion, hugging her to him so she could breathe through his cotton button up shirt. “Everything will be okay. Don’t be afraid.”
The man swiftly carries his daughter through the nearly collapsing building, stopping in the dining room, which has not yet been effected by the fire, seeing three large men standing at the other end of the room. The one standing in front of the other two looks at this man clutching his child; smiles and says, “Hello Rodolfo.”
Suddenly the side door bursts open by a surly man who looks to be slightly older than Rodolfo. He walks over to him and Layla.
“Rodolfo, we need to get out of here! The west wing has almost completely collapsed,” he said, not yet noticing the men on the ot...
... middle of paper ...
...ar, because Iggy moved them around a lot, she occasionally glances at the houses she has ridden past a thousand times before. They began to transform from typical cookie cutter homes to ones that appeared to have been there for centuries slowly eroding away with no one to care about them.
Layla pulled up into the cracked driveway to see that the garage door was closed and the entire house was dark. Sensing the abnormality Layla pulls her motorcycle to the side of the garage, places a beaten up tarp over it, and enters the garage through the side door.
The garage is silent and empty, except for Iggy’s tool chest and motorcycle shoved in the corner. Entering the house Layla turns on the front room light and sees Iggy collapsed on the floor in front of the couch.
“Iggy!” She rushes towards him trying to comprehend this situation. “Iggy? Iggy?! Can you hear me?”
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