Torn from sleep, Jenaveve bolted upright as a scream ripped from her throat. Uneven breaths puffed angrily at her bare knees after she pulled them tightly against her, hoping that the thick curtain of hair would be enough to hide her from the nightmare that still chased on the edges of her mind. Yet, it didn’t seem to matter how tightly she pinched her eyes closed, the images were still there, plucking at her sanity. And the odor--- it was as if the charring smoke had branded itself to the inside of her nose and it would be all she would ever smell.
Her screams.
Jenaveve’s shoulders racked as sobs ballooned from her throat. But it didn’t matter how hard she cried, or how tightly she held her legs, the nightmare wouldn’t fade, the memory wouldn’t subside. In an endless stream of fire and
