Chapter 33 - The Fire Alarm
Two weeks into the school year, my phone rang.
It was 10:30 AM. I was at my desk, drafting a freelance graphic design project. The caller ID flashed: OAKWOOD ELEMENTARY.
My heart instantly stopped. My vision tunneled.
I snatched the phone. "Hello? Is Clara okay?"
"She’s perfectly fine, ma'am," the school nurse said quickly, sensing my panic. "I’m calling because we had an unannounced fire drill today. The loud sirens startled Clara. She was very brave, but she got quite upset and asked to speak to you."
The sirens. The loud, blaring sirens in a confined space.
My baby and I won't be waiting.
The memory of the tunnel collapsed in on me—the darkness, the dust, the deafening wail of the emergency alarms echoing off crushed concrete.
"I'm on my way," I choked out.
I barely remember the drive. I burst through the front doors of the school, my hands shaking uncontrollably, scanning the bright hallway for smoke that wasn't there.
I found Clara sitting in the nurse's office, swinging her light-up sneakers. When she saw me, her face crumpled, and she ran into my arms.
"It was too loud, Mama," she cried into my neck.
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"I know, baby. I know," I rocked her, squeezing my eyes shut to hold back my own tears. "You're safe. We're safe."
It had been five years, but the trauma was a ghost that lived in our bones.
