Page 28 of Rescuing Ember

I close my eyes, memories washing over me like a tidal wave. Cold nights huddled in alleyways, stomach growling with hunger. The terror of footsteps approaching in the dark, of hands reaching out to take what little I had. The weight of choices no child should have to make.

But even then, in the darkest moments, I never turned away from the suffering of others, even when it meant pain for me.That little girl at St. Mary’s Group Home cried in the corner as the older kids closed in. I stepped between them and her and took the beating meant for her. There was that foster brother, trembling as our foster father raised the belt. I grabbed Tommie’s hand and ran with him into the night, knowing what awaited us when they caught us.

They never did.

The St. Catherine’s Home fire was different, however. It’s the one and only time fire ever scared me. The matches I used were wrong—something was off about them. The flames were too eager, too hungry. Too well fed.

The first match I struck to light my candle caught faster than it should, spreading across the floor like a living thing.

Smoke filled the dormitory within minutes. Through the chaos of screaming children and crackling flames, I remembered the maintenance tunnel—my secret escape route during the bad nights.

While the staff rushed to the main exits, I gathered the younger kids, leading them through the maze of corridors I had memorized.

“Keep low,” I whispered, guiding them through the thickening smoke. “Hold hands. Don’t let go.”

The tunnel felt endless, the air growing thinner with each step. The smoke thicker. Behind us, the roar of the fire grew louder, hungry flames devouring everything in their path. One of the little ones stumbled. I scooped her up, ignoring the burn of exhausted muscles.

We emerged into the cold night air as the building’s windows exploded, showering glass like deadly rain. I counted heads frantically—twelve kids, all breathing, all alive. They huddled against me, trembling and soot-stained, as sirens wailed in the distance.

That fire taught me something crucial—even my most trusted ally could turn against me. The matches that had always been my salvation nearly became my destruction. It was the only time fire ever betrayed me.

I never saw those kids again. Never knew what happened to them after the ambulances and police cars arrived. Sometimes, on the darkest nights, I still smell that strange chemical smoke and still feel the weight of small hands clutching mine as we ran for our lives.

The memory fades, but the lesson remains: fire might be my weapon and protector—but it demands respect. One wrong move and one moment of carelessness and it will consume everything.

With my memories uncorked, they begin to pour out of me.

There was the loading dock in this awful place. Heart pounding, legs burning, I ran from a gang of boys. Not fast enough.

Never fast enough when it mattered.

Rough hands. Mocking laughter. Pain that went beyond the physical, stealing something I could never get back.

Bruiser. He did that.

I remember it all too well.

But even then, even as he raped me, I protected the new girl, her eyes wide with terror, hiding behind the dumpster as I took what was meant for her.

I had to keep their attention on me. I had to be loud and fight hard enough that they wouldn’t notice her because no one should ever endure what I endured.

Not if I had the power to stop it.

I open my eyes, the present rushing back in. Aria and Daniel, broken and vulnerable. Just like that little girl, that foster brother, that terrified new kid on the streets, and the dozen lives I saved from a fire I set.

And for me?

I’m still that same stubborn, foolish girl who can’t walk away. Who’d rather take the hit than watch someone else fall.

I made a choice when I tried to save Aria. I’m not backing out now. Because backing out and walking away when someone needs me is a pain I don’t think I can survive.

My jaw sets, determination hardening like steel in my gut. We’re getting out of here. All of us. Whatever it takes.

NINE

Ember

“Aria, please.”I try one last time, holding the candle close to her cell. The flame reflects in her glassy eyes, twin pools of despair. “I need you with me. Whatever’s coming, we face it together. Remember who you are. Remember Moxie.”

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