Cycle of Abuse
Harker woke up to the smell of smoke all over his house.
He jolted up, and saw that the flames had already reached farther than he thought. They spread like tendrils reaching through the gaps of the walls and floors, the holes and crevices they had made. He coughed as he rushed to the rooms of his brothers and sister.
"Chloe! Sam! Sammy!"
But none of them were in their rooms. None of them answered his calls either.
The curling tongues of the fire cheekily tried to lap at him, and Harker just dodged. Maybe they have escaped? He went downstairs just to be sure, not really in a hurry to save himself.
The fire was much worse downstairs. The sofa had burned almost to ashes, the dining table where they ate and their chairs too. Of course, his father's woodworks had been scorched easily, turning a deep black.