Chapter 4N
D
‘s May 2025 Chantal’s not here today, so I’m filming by myself.“&
I propped my phone on a little stool by the stove and gave the camera a small smile, standing in front of the old cast–iron pan.
“Thought to make tomato and egg noodles today. It was mine and Grayden’s favorite when we were kids.“N
1 shuffled to the stove. My right hand could still hold the spatula, but my left was starting to lose coordination–just hovering in the air, trembling str
My movements were slow each step like a struggle against my own body.
It took forever to chop the tomato, and even then, they came out all uneven. When I cracked the egg, some white splashed out. I didn’t bother wiping it
Uit the stove. The flame jumped up with a “whoosh”
Once the pan was hot, I tried to pour the egg in, but my hand shook–the spatula slipped and clattered onto the floor.N
I froze
I stared at the spatula for a few seconds before trying to bend over and pick it up.N
But I couldn’t. My back wouldn’t let me.
I braced myself on the counter, my legs shaking. At that moment, I felt like a puppet with its strings cut–arms and legs just dangling, refusing to work.
The oil sizzled. The eggs burned. A sharp, acrid smell hit my nose.
I was still trying to push myself up. My shoulder blades ached like they were splitting open.N
And then, my vision dimmed.&
The flame was still on. Oil popped, and some droplets landed on a paper towel by the stove with a soft plop.N
It started to curl, edges blackening, then burst into a tiny flame.
I froze.
1
“No… No, wait..
I tried to turn the gas off–but I couldn’t move.
My arms wouldn’t listen. My legs wouldn’t lift me. I was stuck like some scarecrow nailed to the floor, watching helplessly as the flames crept up the wood beside the stove.!!
Smoke began to rise.
Is anyone there?!”
I used every bit of strength I had to shout. But my throat felt crushed.
“Help! Somebody help!”
The flames flickered and grew. I started coughing, the kind that hurts all the way down like knives scraping my chest.
My eyes watered. My nose bumed. My heart thumped in my ears.
“I don’t want to die… not now…”
I slumped against the stove, tears slipping quietly from the comers of my eyes.
The camera kept rolling. It captured it all–my panic, my helplessness.
At that moment, I felt like a crumpled piece of paper collapsed in this haze of smoke and burning, all alone.§
“Shirt?! Shirl, are you there?!”
It was the woman from next door.ll
I tried to answer, but no sound came.
“Shirl, why’s there so much smoke?! Shirl!
“Anyone home?!
“Someone, help! The house is on fire!”
Soon, the door slammed open. I heard her footsteps–she saw me and gasped.
“Somebody help! She’s in here!”
She didn’t hesitate. Just rushed to me and tried to pull me up. My body felt like stone. I couldn’t move. She half–dragged and half–carried
me out.
From the corner of my eye, I saw someone put the fire out with water. It hissed and fizzled out–like a nerve snapping.
The camera was still pointed at the smoky mess in the kitchen.
I wasn’t in frame anymore. But my sobs–raw, broken–echoed loud and clear.
Bit by bit, they revealed just how afraid I was.
I really, truly didn’t want to die.
