Scars

I shout for help. 

I can hear the ring of fire brigade and police sirens.  They are getting close but will it be too late?

I try to get up again but of no avail. Part of the collapsed roof has pinned me down. I cannot seem to feel my legs - let alone move them. I try to crawl towards the exit. Smoke has engulfed my room completely.

I spit on my handkerchief and hold it over my nose. This is the only trick I remember from the Disaster Recovery Meetings at my workplace. Hope it works for me.

Every breath I take makes me wonder if that would be my last. I don’t want to die this way. As I struggle to remain conscious, I hear the sirens loud and clear. I can hear people talk.

Thankfully rescue has arrived in time. The door collapses and I see a firefighter running towards me.  A big burning piece of wood, most probably my almirah, falls on my head. It pains. My mind wants to shut down but the burning pain keeps it running.

The fire is put out by the firefighter, and he wraps me in a blanket. ‘Everything is going to be okay’ he whispers.

I touch my cheek. I feel the scars running all across my face. Then I open my eyes gently and look at my ugly reflection in the mirror. My tears cannot take away the pain. I live that fiery night every day. As more tears welled up in my eyes, I knew it was time to wash my face.

I had lost everything that night, but I still had my job. I am getting late for work.

Cheers,
Rosh