AMELIA POV

Five minutes ago, I woke up to use the bathroom. Wanting to stretch my legs, I avoided the one in the master bedroom and walked down the hallway to the guest bathroom in the east wing.

Now I’m trapped inside, smoke seeping under the door, and it feels like I’m going to die.

The thought comes crystal clear through the panic.

This is how it ends.

I pound on the door until my fists ache, screaming until my throat is raw. “Help! Someone help me!”

The alarm wails overhead, ...