I fell asleep watching Hollyoaks at about 8pm. At half past I was awoken by my flatmate Michaela banging my door down screaming 'FIRE!'. I opened the door and she seemed obviously panicked wandered out into the corridor in my hoody and joggers, blinking, bleary-eyed. I was hit immediately by the choking cloud of smoke that filled the corridor that traveled straight to the back of my throat and made me cough. I was in a daze, not really understanding the situation, until Michaela said 'Look' as we hurried past the kitchen, which I did, only to be greeted with a roaring blaze that filled the room. With that we left as quickly as we could, and I don't even remember running down the stairs. The next thing I recall is standing outside, shoeless, frozen, staring up at our third floor kitchen, illuminated with the glow of the fire blazing away. We could see the flames from the ground, and smoke poured out of the window. At some point the fire alarm had started going off, but I don't remember the exact moment when that happened. I just stood with Michaela, and a growing crowd of people, watching the evacuation of the building. Everyone began with annoyed frowns on their faces as they exited the door, turning to gasping countenances as the realisation that it was a real fire set in. Hundreds of people stood with me, shivering, as we watched the ominous red glow from the kitchen window grow brighter, then more clouded as the smoke particles multiplied. At some point I had to borrow somebody's inhaler as a mixture of smoke and stress gave me an athsma attack. I subconsciously noted that every time there had been an un-fire-related alarm go off, the fire engines had arrived in a matter of seconds. This time it seemed to take an age, which was ironic, because we actually needed them this time. Two burly security guards ran towards the building and sprinted up the stairs and we watched their shadows in the kitchen, fighting the fury of the fire and smoke to attempt to extinguish it. After many failed attempts, and the flames growing exponentially, they managed to put the fire out. The kitchen grew dark suddenly, lit by the only remaining intact light. It had a toxic grey tinge to the once-white walls, and I prayed that the damage wasn't too bad. The fire brigade finally arrived, and more firemen than I could count ascended the two staircases and paraded into what was left of our kitchen. From the murky puddles left in the aftermath I take it that they hosed the remains of the fire out. I found myself telling strangers what had happened, how my flat mate Mohammed had been deep-frying chips and the fat had got hot and spontaneously combusted. I then told how another of my flatmates Josh had thrown the fire blanket over the flames, which in turn caught fire and made everything ten times worse. After a few repetitions of the tale it became second nature and I didn't have to think about the words that were coming out of my mouth.
We were left outside in the bitter cold for multiple hours, and finally the rest of our block were let back into the building. We remained outside, but once deemed safe enough we were allowed to return, but only quickly, to retrieve keys and shoes. And I'd never imagined it could be that bad. The walls were sooty black. The ceiling was blacker. The cupboard doors were peeling. The kettle cord had burnt right through. The oven top was black all over. The fridge door had melted out of shape. The light had melted and fallen from the ceiling. It was a mess. And the stench was rancid. I'd never smelt anything like it. It was smoke, burning plastic, and burning wood, and burning fat, all rolled into one, but worse. The corridor walls were grey. I took a finger and stroked it down the wall, uncovering the original colour but blackening my finger. The whole flat was disgustingly warm, hot not humid. Even my room stank. We were led back outside again and the fire brigade were leaving. We were told the flat needed to air and we could go back in an hour or so. By the time we were let back in it was about midnight. The windows were all open and the heat from an hour ago was mixing with the cold of the night. It's two days later now. I'm haunted, not sleeping right, afraid it'll happen again. We can't use the kitchen, at the smell still hits me hard every time I open the door. It's just one of those things you think will never happen to you. But it did.
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