Family photos are falling to the floor. I hear loud crackling sounds. They look like the bonfires we have every summer. My room is getting hotter and the air is getting thinner while the smoke is getting thicker. Where is my window? I keep tripping over clothes on the floor. I know I'm approaching the window because my pile of clothes is next to the dresser, to the left of the window. I feel it. The glass is still cold from the snow outside. The cold relieves my hands and face from the heat for a split second. "Amanda, where are you?" I can hear my father desperately screaming my mother's name across the hall. I can't open the window. The plastic lock that closes and opens the window is melted. How will I open it? If I can't get out, I'll die in this little box. I don't want to burn alive! It would be the worst way to die! Hopefully, I will lose consciousness first due to smoking. It would be better. I wouldn't feel the pain of the fire. I see smoke coming in from under the door. It seems like gigantic clouds quickly fill my room to the point that I can't see anything but