The room was silent.

A red light illuminated above the camera lens.

A throat cleared, low and uncertain.

From overhead speakers, a voice drifted down, flat and routine: “I am recording. You may begin whenever.”

The silence deepened, filling every corner, heavy as stone.

Finally, it was broken. The faint rustle of fabric. A shift in the chair.

Still, no words. Only the pulse of the red light, steady, waiting.

A long, deliberate inhale, held until it almost hurt. Then a slow, shaky exhale that seemed to rattle in the air long after it ended.

 

The blue glow of the numbers above the door burns my eyes. I’m forced to squint, fighting back the tears threatening to spill over. It’s the most beautiful shade of blue I’ve ever seen—richer than the endless sky on a cloudless summer day. Yet, it’s also the most terrifying thing. It’s the spark that ignites the fear burning in my chest, fueling the tears edging closer, promising to fall.

3— My heart pounds, fast and hard, like it’s desperate to break free, racing against the seconds slipping away.

2— The pressure in my chest is suffocating. I force each breath deep into my lungs, steadying my legs to keep from buckling beneath the weight of the moment.

1— The thought of what’s on the other side of that door paralyzes me. Or… what isn’t.

As the final second ticks away, a blaring horn cuts through the thudding heartbeat in my ears, its deafening sound making me flinch. The airlock door groans open, and I freeze. My body goes rigid, drowning in a silence so profound it feels like the world itself is holding its breath.

I step through the airlock and into the world I’ve been shut away from for so long. The heat is overwhelming. Sweat beads across my skin, heavy and immediate, as if the air itself is too much to bear. Sulfur slices at my windpipe like a thousand tiny razors, choking each breath. Smoke hangs low and heavy, clinging to the air. It scratches my eyes raw, as if my lids were made of sandpaper. I wipe at the stinging tears, struggling to face the reality I’ve feared for so long.

The world has been set ablaze.

Buildings are nothing more than shattered remnants, piles of rubble where once-thriving structures stood. Concrete and steel lie twisted, collapsed into heaps of unrecognizable debris. Cars, now rusted, hollow shells, stand forever frozen where they met their end.

Gone are the fields of green, the trees swaying with the breeze, their leaves vibrant and alive. The sky is a lifeless, suffocating gray. No trace of blue, no birds soaring, nothing to break the oppressive stillness. There is no color left in this world.

Everything is ash. Everyone is ash.

Through the haze of smoke and smoldering ruins, I catch a glimpse of something—faint and distant. As I push forward, the shape becomes clearer, and my heart plummets.

A house on fire.

I move toward it. With every step, this crushing feeling starts to build. Finally, like a bolt of lightning through my chest, the realization hits.

I know this house—this is my house.

Panic surges as I race toward it. The flames grow more furious, their dance more erratic—flickering in and out of focus like they’re toying with my mind. The heat presses down, slowing me, pushing at my resolve.

Each step is a battle. The flames lash at me, their crackling louder and louder. They taunt me, daring me to get closer. 

But I won’t stop. I can’t stop.

Finally, I reach the front yard. Flames rage from every window and doorway, devouring everything inside. The house feels alive, consumed with a fury that turns every wall, every beam, every scrap of furniture into fuel for its wrath.

I stop short of the porch, heart hammering in my chest. My hands fly up to shield my face from the heat as my eyes squeeze shut. 

And then, amidst the roar of the fire, a voice cuts through the chaos.

“JASE!” 

“JASE!”

“HELP ME!”

I squint through my fingers, desperate to see past the flames. Through the smoke and heat, I catch a glimpse of something—someone—standing beyond the wall of fire. For a split second, the flames part, almost mocking me with a brief window of clarity.

There, in the inferno, is Eli. My brother.

He’s standing there alone, screaming my name, begging for help. The terror in his eyes, the raw fear in his voice, sends a chill through my spine, freezing me in place.

But before panic can take hold, I don’t think. I just react. 

The searing heat, once terrifying, no longer matters. A primal urge surges inside me, driving me forward. Without hesitation, I leap for the steps with only one thought driving me––save my brother.

Just as my foot lands, our eyes lock again. In that instant, time seems to stop at what I see in his eyes.

The fear is gone. His eyes are hollow now—brimming with a profound sadness. His lips quiver, and then, with a pain so raw it breaks my heart, he whispers:

“Why did you leave me?”

The words slice through me like molten steel, cutting deeper than any flame. My breath catches. Guilt surges like a tidal wave, crushing every rational thought. My knees buckle, and I collapse under the weight of it. I search for words, I want to explain, to apologize. But, none exist. His eyes demand an answer I’ll never have. There is no answer, no words to make it right.

The weight of regret pushes down on me. My body trembles, struggling to stay upright. His words echoing through my mind.

But then, the heat bites my skin again, burning through the paralysis. Clarity strikes: I can be there for him now. I can save him. We can figure out the rest later—after we both make it out of this burning hellscape.

I shoot to my feet, driven by a desperate need to get to him. I leap for the step, muscles coiled with explosive force, ready to carry me into the fire. My boot slams into the step and then gives way. The wood splinters as the floorboard beneath me collapses, plunging me into the decaying structure.

And then––everything stops.

The flames vanish. The heat, the smoke, the suffocating air––they all dissolve. The house crumbles into ash, scattering and blowing away silently on the wind.

For a moment, the world is eerily still.

Then, faint but unmistakable, his words echo once more, carried on the gentle breeze, as I watch the ashes float away:

“Why did you leave me?”

“Why”