Locked In

 

The room was suddenly too hot. I was awakened by people screaming outside as I felt heat intensified around me. My eyes were still sleepy, but when I looked around, I jumped in shock.

My house was on fire.

Smoke filled the air. My eyes burned. My chest hurt as I tried to breathe. My heart was beating fast with fear. I was wide awake now. I needed to escape.

But my windows had metal bars. Burglar proof bars. The protection I had put in place to prevent burglars had now kept me prisoner in my room. With the fire as my only companion.

Panic rushed through me. I couldn’t just sit there and wait to be burned alive. I was confused. Scared. It was hard to think while the flames and thick smoke closed in on me.

Then a wild, desperate thought came—run through the fire. Even if it burned me. Even if it hurt. Maybe, just maybe, I would live long enough for someone to find me. Waiting in that room felt like waiting for death. I could almost feel the fire touching my skin. The fear was so strong it made me want to scream. I didn’t want to die. Not like this. Not alone.

My whole body trembled as I whispered a shaky prayer.
God… please… please save me. Don’t let me die.

Right after I said “Amen,” a loud bang hit the window. I jumped and stumbled back, heart pounding so loud I could hear it in my ears. The glass shattered. Smoke burst out. A hand reached in, waving at me, calling me.

A firefighter.

For a second, I couldn’t move. I was crying, shaking, gasping for air. I didn’t know who called them. I didn’t know how they got there. All I knew was that help had come. I was getting out. I wasn’t going to die in that fire.

When they pulled me out, the cold air hit my face, and I burst into tears. I was alive. I was safe. I couldn’t believe it. My whole body felt weak, but my heart was full of relief.

In that moment, shaking and breathless, I knew one thing for sure—God hears even the quietest prayers.