A Firefighter's Confession

When the world returns to fire and hell rises from the ground towards the heavens, my siren heart rings loud as my adrenaline begins to pump.

When my own home erupts in the black clouds of a war zone, screams hollow the dry walls until only the foundation of our home remains. No gun resides across my chest, just a torn and tattered heart too full to let me leave. A gush of wind and smoke erupts from your lungs, my black bunker gear my only protection. The moment your tired, empty eyes land on me, I freeze. At the Fire Academy we were taught that the order of importance is ourselves, our crew, our patients, and then property; how do I tell my instructor I would let the world  go up in flames if it meant you would live?  Under my breath I pray for your eyes to look right through me if only to prolong the inevitable but the device attached to my hip sounds an alarm, worried that I’m dead, just like I’m worried that no one will find us in the rubble of our crumbling home. How do I convince the machine to let me die with you?

The EMS side of me arrises as I walk towards you, my main goals ringing in my head

“save her”

“make the pain stop”

“hold her in your arms if you can’t stop the pain”

I reach out my hands to check for breathing, my gloves cradling your back when it happens. Pulling away from you, a cry emits from my throat as the remnants of your heart lay crumbled in my glove. Just like that, your heart ceases to beat, your eyes no longer shine, and your tears have all burned dry. With the last flutter of your eye lids, my world shatters.

No training prepared me for this, no backup is coming to help, and no paramedic could have stopped the bleeding. We burn right before my eyes until just my empty body remains, cold without you by my side. I dust the rubble off of my shoulders, drag my feet like a zombie, climb into my rig and drive away to the the next call. Whether this is my final fire, I don’t know. But now, when the flames engulf the roof above my head and I stop moving, welcoming the end...the alarm attached to my hip sounds, resonating like your voice telling me to keep going. It’s just hard to save person and property, when you’ve lost your home.