• by Katrina Mitchell

Short Story: Flames (Part 2)


Courtney hid near some bushes across the street and watched as Michael looked up and down the street.


He looked back in the apartment, then pulls out his phone.


“Oh no!” she whispered, as her phone started ring, loudly. She tried to turn it off, but looked up and saw Michael walking directly to her. Courtney had seconds to decide what to do. Flames danced in the window of their apartment, and Michael drew closer.


Courtney stood. Michael was right in front of her. She held her phone up so he could see the screen. She had dialed 911.


“What’s your emergency?” the operator said.


“What are you doing?” he asked.


“My kitchen is on fire and I think he is gonna hurt--” Courtney said before Michael slapped the phone out of her hand. He pushed her against a tree. His hand gripped her jaw.


“What do you think you’re doing? Huh?” Michael growled close to her face.


“Hello? Ma’am are you there?” the operator said.


Courtney’s breaths were short and fast.


“Ma’am, I’m sending some help, if you can hear me.”


Michael let go of Courtney, grabbed the phone, and smashed it. Courtney stood, frozen. Her bag was by her feet. She stepped forward, but Michael quickly pushed her back.


“Don’t move!”


The alarms in the courtyard were going off, and residents in the apartment complex were coming out onto the street and looking up as smoke billowed out of the apartment and climbed up the walls. Sirens were dull but growing louder. Courtney was anxious, afraid to move, but sure he wouldn’t hurt her with so many people around. This was her chance.

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