Chapter 3 - THE FLOORBOARDThe smoke was no longer a ribbon. It was a thick, dark blanket pressing down on me, tasting of burning plastic and ash.
My lungs seized. I coughed so hard my ribs felt like they were cracking. The heat radiating from the bedroom door told me the fire was in the hallway, eating its way through the wood.
The boot.
My fingers scrabbled in the darkness beneath my bed, brushing past dust bunnies and old toys until they hit the heavy leather. I dragged it out, coughing violently, my eyes streaming with tears. I pulled out the iron key and the folded note, shoving them deep into the elastic waistband of my pajama pants.
I didn't know if I was going to die, but if I did, they were going to find my body with my father's secret.
The smoke alarm's shrieks were deafening, but underneath it, I heard the terrifying crackle of flames. The paint on my bedroom door began to blister and peel. Orange light flickered through the crack at the bottom.
I dropped to the floor, pressing my cheek against the carpet to find the last pockets of oxygen. As I lay there, my hand brushed against the corner of my nightstand. And then I remembered.
My father.
“Look here, little bird,” he had whispered to me once, pulling back the edge of the rug near the radiator. He had used a flathead screwdriver to pry up a loose floorboard, revealing the deep, dusty space between the floor joists. “This is where I hide my special chocolates from your mother. Our secret, okay?”
I scrambled toward the radiator. My fingers were small and weak, but the panic gave me a desperate, frantic strength. I dug my nails into the seam of the wood, ignoring the splintering pain as my fingernails tore.
"Please!" I screamed, pulling upward.
The floorboard groaned, then popped loose.
A rush of cool, musty air blew up into my face from the sub-floor ventilation space. It wasn't meant for a person, but I was small. Tiny for a seven-year-old.
I shoved my stuffed bunny into the hole first, then wiggled my feet inside. The space was terrifyingly cramped, filled with fiberglass insulation that immediately made my skin itch and burn. But the air down here was breathable.
Just as I pulled the floorboard back over my head, leaving a tiny crack for air, my bedroom door gave way with a horrific crash.
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Flames roared into the room like a living, breathing monster. Above my head, my bed caught fire. The heat was immense, baking the floorboards above me. I squeezed my eyes shut, clutching the iron key in my pocket, and prayed to a father who was no longer there.
Then, everything went black.
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