Flames

The shower she took after Nate dropped her off, was perfect. Her sore muscles loosening beneath the spray. As was her habit, she had switched off the lights and gone to spend a bit of time on the couch. Nate's calming scent had long since faded, but sitting there with her bee plushie always calmed her to the point where she went right to sleep the moment her head touched the pillow.

It was likely this habit that had saved her life. Her bedroom was on the far end, the quieter side, while her living room was right over the front end of the shop. She could hear whatever was going on downstairs, so when the little bell above the store door rang once before going quiet, Rose heard it.

There was a heart stopping moment where she just lay where she was, frozen in fear. When the moment passed and she regained control of her limbs she stood slowly. Making sure her bare feet were as quiet as possible. Her phone was in her room, she could get to the phone, hide and call for help, then she would be fine.

What sort of thieves robbed a flower shop!

On a day when she had closed early no less. How desperate did you have to be?

What were they going to do, make off with some daisies? Did they think the daffodils would earn them a fortune?

She focused her mind on their stupidity, using the rage to push her through. If she focused on the other things, then her fear might just paralyze her again. Things like how she was a single woman living alone. Things like how she could hear more than a single person downstairs, and how there was definitely someone on the stairs, coming for her. The person coming upstairs shattered all pretense that they would leave once they got at the money in the till.

Coming upstairs meant they wanted more. Whether that more meant more money or more of her, Rose had no idea, and she did not want to know. Giving up on being quiet, she ran into her room, shutting the door and locking it behind her. No sooner had she locked it, a body slammed against the wood, the force enough to rattle the hinges. Switching on the lights, she headed for her nightstand, the books there falling as she search for her phone.

The bangs on her door continued, the screws in the hinges beginning to fall out "Come on, come on, come on,"

She finally found the phone beneath her pillow. Panicked as she was, she did not even think of the police. Her mind instead going to the person who made her feel safe. His number was the last one she had called, so all she had to do was swipe on it. It rang once, and Rose bent down, going for the baton underneath her bed. The second ring and she went to stand behind the door, switching off the light, phone in one hand and nightstick in the other, the wall at her back vibrating with each powerful shove.

On the third ring he picked up

"Hello," His smooth voice was the best thing she had ever heard.

"Nate," She whispered, terrified, and her bedroom door finally gave up the fight falling inwards, the intruder following. An involuntary scream was ripped from her. She did not feel it when her phone hit the carpet, but the next thing she knew she was holding the baton with both hands. The masked man( those broad shoulders were definitely that of a man) was looking forward. The darkness working in her favour, the man not seeing her immediately despite her scream and Rose took her chance to strike.

Pouring her strength into it, she swung the baton, and caught him on the back of the head. In the movies, one hit to the head and a person went down. But the man merely howled in pain, gripping the back of his head. He swung his hand back without looking, and it was only Rose's small stature that saved her, his hand landing just above her head. Dropping down, she swung her weapon at his Achilles heel . This time he went down, screaming like he was being murdered.

She might not be strong enough to break bones with a single hit, but pain was still pain.

"Mick! You good?" Someone yelled downstairs and Rose wasted no time breaking into a run, headed for the stairs.

For the men coming up the stairs she used a different technique, flooding the lower floor with light, momentarily blinding them. She ran past them, her small frame making it easier. She was at the last step, the door within reach when a fist caught her in the back, sending her tumbling, her weapon knocked out of her grasp. A hand grabbed at her ankle and she kicked out desperately, managing to escape the bruising hold.

Getting on all fours, she pushed herself up, and a big hand buried itself in her hair, pulling until she felt as though it would be ripped out by the roots.

"Gotcha," The man, definitely the first one she had run past first said. Still gripping her by her hair, he turned her around. Like the one currently limping down the stairs, and the one holding the side of his head a few feet from them, he was masked. But Rose could make out brown eyes from where he was leaning in close, breathing onto her face, the smell of alcohol assaulting her each time he exhaled.

"We were going to go easy on you. But it seems you need to be taught a lesson," With his free and he reached into his pocket, pulling out a knife.

"The money in the till is all I have for now, but I can get more, I do not want any trouble," Rose begged, her voice coming out steadier than she felt. In answer, he laughed, running the tip of his blade from along her side. Moving it from her neck, down her arm, not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to make her feel the cool skin.

"If you did not want any trouble, you would not have been such a nuisance to my men," He pulled the knife back, flipping it in the air before catching it again. In the next instant the man moved so fast, Rose did not even see the hit coming. Hand still pulling her hair, he slashed at her upper arm.

For a moment, Rose was unsure whether the knife had actually cut her. Then a line of red appeared in her upper arm, the blood quickly flowing. Painting the rest of her arm red, falling onto the floor, pain pulsing through her.

"I am going to enjoy this," The man hissed, aiming for another cut, but Rose had had enough. She had been afraid the man would hurt her more than he already was with her hair, so she had stayed still. But it seemed he intended to hurt her either way, she would not just stand still and take it.

Her body moved before she finished the thought. Legs apart, fist balled, she decked him right in the face, feeling the softness of his eyeball beneath her knuckle. His grip on her hair loosened long enough for her to tear free, leaving a few strands of hair on his gloved fingers, but Rose barely noticed, busy running.

Her intent had been to go out the front door, but she knew she would not make it before they caught her. Changing tactics, she ran for the garden in the back. There was no exit there, but it was dark, she did not like exposing the plants to artificial light. In addition to the darkness, there were little nooks and crannies amongst the plants where she could hide.

Arm bleeding, head aching, Rose ran as fast as she could, making it to the garden and hiding in her section of barely visited plants before the men caught up with her. Hand over her mouth to stop from breathing too loudly, Rose heard the men at the entrance of the garden.

"We should follow the blood trail," One of them said, and Rose trembled, trying to make herself as small as possible.

"No, leave her," The one who had cut her said. Before Rose could even take a relieved breath, he spoke again.

"She likes the dark so much, let's show her what light is like," Stealing a glance, she saw two shadows retreat. One silhouette remaining, inside the store she could hear movement, and that was when the smell hit her.

Gasoline.

The man at the door did not come closer, he did not need to. Simply taking a canister from one of his buddies and throwing the flammable liquid around the garden, dousing the plants closest to him and her one and only escape route.

"Let's go boys," That was the last Rose heard of them.

She had thought that she would at least have time to run out before the blaze got too strong. But the moment the fire was ignited, it spawned hulking flames, gliding as they followed the trail of the gas, plumes of dark smoke making it harder and harder to breathe.

She tried to leave the garden, but the wall of fire at the entrance kept her back. Through the flames she could see her path to safety growing narrower and narrower. The fire eating away at the shelves, their husks falling over. Each one that toppled blocking her path to the door. Behind her, everything was shades of orange and yellow, making even the earth beneath her bare feet too hot.

She had to get out, she had to go…

But her body was done. The blood loss and the smoke inhalation overcoming the adrenalin she had been running on. She found herself on her knees, each breath burning her throat, the world around becoming fuzzier and fuzzier until she finally lost her battle with consciousness.

Collapsing amongst the flames, her body about to be consumed by the fire that was eating away at her home.