Every creak made him tense. Every bird sound made him flinch. Every gust of wind made his fingers tighten around whatever was near. When you lose everything once, your hands start believing they can stop it from happening again.
He hadn’t always been alone.
The night everything changed stayed inside his body, even if his mind didn’t fully understand it.
It began with heavy rain.
Rain that hit the roof hard and loud.
He remembered his mother calling, “Leo, baby, come here!” Her voice shook, but she smiled so he wouldn’t be scared.
His father was pulling boxes toward the door as smoke crept along the kitchen floor. The fire was small at first, just a quiet orange glow climbing the wall.
Leo didn’t understand.
He stood there holding his favorite metal spoon, staring at the fire as it grew.
His mother grabbed his arms. Her skin was hot. Her eyes were wide, but still kind.
“Stay close,” she said.
Then the roof cracked.
A beam snapped.
The fire exploded upward.
She pushed Leo toward the back door. He fell into the wet mud outside and tried to stand, reaching for her.
But she didn’t come out.
His father tried to pull her free.
Then the ceiling collapsed.