Kyle finally wakes up, but he can't really breath. Smoke is everywhere and he can hardly remember how much danger he's in. He slowly comes to realize how warm it is around him, not just warm, but hot. It's hot enough to make him rather uncomfortable. His arms come to life and slowly push him up off the floor. Some dust and small debris tumble off his back as he rises up. The burning pupils of his eyes take in their first clear view after regaining consciousness. It all comes back to him.
The apartment is still burning. Everything around is some kind of yellow or orange, or red. The colors flicker and mingle all around, making the hall seem like it fell out of a nightmare. The sounds of cracking and burning and breaking didn't help Kyle relax either. For a moment, all he could do was wander the hall like a lost soul, with nothing and no one to call out to or reach for. But amid the collapsing wood, steel, and stone; a possibly glimmer of salvation is spotted. Kyle sees a big metal door unharmed by flame. He looks up at the ceiling and scans the walls. They look safe, or at least they aren't obscured by whirling flames and chocking smoke. With his heart beating so violently, Kyle glides over to the door with his feet as light as he can make them. There is no guarantee that the floor will hold, he might as well jump into the fire if he runs across it. He is briefly startled when his hand goes through a portion of the wall. Fortunately, it is not hot and there is no fire on the other side, but his hand is now scratched and shallowly cut. He lets his strained heart clam for a second, but he knows that to stop is to die, and forces himself to push forward.
Only two more feet and he should be able to reach the handle. He resists the urge to jump at the door, though it's his best hope for survival, he knows that it's really just a gamble. He doesn't know what's on the other side. He doesn't even know how much farther he'll have to go once he gets through. He may just be dead already.
When he finally makes it, he leans lightly on the door. it's only warm so there's little chance that it conceals an inferno. He drags his hand across the space between the door and the frame to make absolutely sure. The air doesn't feel any hotter. His entire body quakes, he might just get out. With shaking sweating hands, he grasps the handle and twists it. The door creaks, but it's barely audible over the flames inhaling tons of raw oxygen and the building collapsing on itself. The door at last swings open, and Kyle finds himself looking into an almost black stairwell. The lights were all surely killed by the fire. He steps in and proceeds to feel his way down the dark stairs. Halfway down, he feels the floor buckle under him. Not sure of what to do, he freezes and hopes that the stairs hold. They only cry louder, as his weight causes them to grind into nothing. Panic.
Kyle bolts into a run despite being blinded by the near absolute absence of light. It's the all the stairs can take, and give way. Kyle feels himself falling. He is paralyzed. Four of his sense tell him nothing. He only knows that he is descending. Nearer and nearer to flames. Then his sight is restored, as are his hearing and his ability to smell. The taste of burning air is clearer than ever. Kyle is down. He tries to get up, but he cannot. Something on his back will not allow him to stand. There is pain. His head feels like it is floating detached from his body. Kyle's brown eyes continue to wander across the field of fire before him. His ears provide notice of the collapse of the floor above him, the sure to be cause of his death.
Kyle is tired. He's alone. There is no one coming for him. There exists nothing that can save him. His eyes begin to close, neither of them bother to shed tears. It would simply be a waste.
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