Freya

I stood up slowly from the cold, scorched ground, my legs shaking so badly I almost fell again. My house, the only place I had left, was nothing but blackened ruins and ash. Nothing remained. Everything I owned, every small thing I had saved since I was a child, was gone.

I wiped the tears from my face with the back of my hand, the motion rough and angry. The wetness on my cheeks felt sticky, my eyes swollen and burning. I turned away from the wreckage, my shoulders slumped, my chest so tight it hurt to breathe.

Everything has been taken from me.

My life flashed through my...