Free Listed: Volume II by Noelle Adams Page B

something was cool on her
forehead. On her cheeks. On her neck.  And she could almost breathe.
    She
heard drips of water, loud and grating, but then it was cool and wet again on
her skin. She opened her mouth but it was dust dry, and she didn’t have breath
enough to speak.
    Then
something cool and wet was in her mouth, dribbling down her chin. She swallowed
instinctively and felt the water as it made its way down her aching throat.
    She
wanted more so she groped for it, but someone else’s hand was on the bottle,
someone else’s hand was on the back of her head, tilting it up so she could
drink.
    When
she’d had as much as she could, she pushed the water away. Then the hand
lowered her head back down, and she tossed her head frantically on the pillow
because it was just too hot.
    Then
she felt that coolness on her skin again. And fingers were pushing loose
strands of hair off her face, making it cooler at her hairline too.
    And
she could breathe.
    The
world was a whirl of heat and pain, but at least she could breathe again.
    *
* *
    She was on fire.
    She
was surrounded by fire. Her house was on fire, and she was inside it.
    She
wasn’t supposed to be inside it.
    The
fire was hot, scorching her, killing her.
    Panic
overwhelmed her—she wasn’t supposed to be in the house when it burned down—and
she jerked up into a sitting position, trying to explain that the house burning
down was just a warning. Vincent Marino had purposefully waited until there was
no one home.
    She
said that she and her aunt had already left the house. They’d gone to a movie
that evening. The theater would be dark and cool.
    He lied to her. Paul must have lied to her. She was angry because she
trusted him. He’d told her he would protect her, and then he’d let her and her
aunt die.
    She
tried to move, tried to get out of the fire by herself, without anyone's help.
But now something was holding her back. There were hands on her, and she
couldn’t get away. She couldn’t move. She screamed at them to let her go.
    Paul
had lied to her. She had trusted him. And he’d let her down.
    Her
aunt was lost in the fire. And now the fire had her too.
    She
told them this—anyone who was listening. She yelled it at them so they would
hear. And she struggled to get out of the strong, imprisoning hands.
    But
she couldn’t get them off her. And then it was worse.
    The
hands were picking her up, carrying her deeper into the fire, away from the
movie theater where she wanted to go. Whoever had her was just as hot as the
fire, just as strong, just as unrelenting.
    She
screamed and writhed to get away, but she couldn’t.
    And
then something happened. Something changed. She was surrounded, submerged in
something cool. It covered her body, up to her neck, and it washed the fire
away.
    The
hands were still there. They were still strong and unrelenting. And they were
still in control of her body.
    But
it was okay. She told them it was okay.
    Because
at least the fire was gone.
    *
* *
    Emily’s body was one
overwhelming ache, but it felt like her mind had pierced through a thick fog.
Each thought pained her, but there was something significant about being able
to think at all.
    She
tossed restlessly under the sheets because she was so hot and uncomfortable. In
the process, she became aware of something strange.
    She
was naked for some reason.
    Her
hair was wet, and it was sticking to her neck and face. She didn’t like it.
Even her pillow seemed hotly damp.
    She
heard a muffled voice, coming from outside the room.
    She
didn’t immediately know who it was or what it meant.
    “There’s
got to be something more I can do for her,” the voice said. It was rough in a
way she didn’t understand. “The last time I checked it was 104.7 ⁰ .
She was delirious—I could barely control her.”
    She
kicked her legs and punched her pillow, hoping it would cool things down. The
voice was grating on her, and she wished it would stop. The thickness in the
tone made