I watch each breath she takes, unable to look away from her. She hasn’t woken up by the time we get to the hospital, but they assure me she’s okay. I still can’t seem to not worry about her. “Pulse is strong. Looks like she’s going to be fine. Probably just some minor smoke inhalation,” the EMT says, but I don't even glance over at him. I’m physically unable to do so. When the back doors open, they wheel her off, and I stay with her. I go all the way back until the nurses take over and pull her into an emergency area. One of the nurses looks at me and sees I’m a firefighter. “Family?” she asks, raising an eyebrow in question. I want to lie and say yes, but then she’ll probably start asking me questions, and I have no idea what to say. I don’t even know her name. This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done, and I don’t have any sort of explanation for it. I just walked off location.
