There is nothing but flame and darkness outside the windows now. Memories of sweat plaster my clothes to my skin as I hear screams through the open door, mingled with the scent of charred flesh, scorched hair, and sulfur.
“Look,” my father says, pointing through the doorway. “Watch. But please don’t cross this threshold...there are too many things you don’t understand yet.”
The heat isn’t real.
I will myself cooler, but the illusion of heat is nearly overpowering. The stench is nauseating, the screams are terrifying.
My fear is real.