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She has to get out. She has to get out . Kamaria can feel the panic crawling up her throat, choking her, threatening to completely take over and turn her into a helpless child all over again.
But she can’t give in, at least not yet. If she breaks now, the fire will take her, just like it did so many others back when she really was a child. She has to escape first. She has to make it past the flames, through all the sparks and smoke that are just like they were back then , and to somewhere safe.
She nearly doesn’t accomplish that. The heat presses in on her like it has in so many nightmares, and the smoke clogs her lungs. By the time she sees clear air and trees ahead, it’s not entirely the smoke that’s keeping her from being able to breathe, though.
Collapsing just in the edge of the woods, with the fire raging a safe distance behind her, Kamaria can’t hold the panic off any longer. It consumes her. She curls up into a tight ball, fingers locked behind her neck, and rocks back and forth as tears stream down her smoke-blackened cheeks. These moments when it’s uncontrollable are the only times she ever cries anymore. Later on, she’ll feel pathetic and angry at herself.
For now, though, all she can think of is fire and death and how much her chest hurts, and how she can’t stop trembling, and how she’s going to die if she can’t make herself actually breathe . Her body feels like it’s shaking apart, on the verge of exploding.
She’s been through this so many times before, she knows that it’ll only stop if she manages to get a hold of herself and force in deep breaths, but she can’t. Not this time. The fire is still too close, she can still hear the crackling and the sound of the buildings slowly collapsing, can still smell the smoke. It’s too much for her mind to handle.
The black spots that have been dancing in her vision multiply until they cover everything, and Kamaria slumps to the ground.