I woke with a start, sweat dripping from my forehead and my throat dry from the warmth that clung to me like a blanket. A peculiar noise reached my ears - the sound of crackling wood mixed with the pungent smell of burning plastic in the air. I whirled around, disoriented in the dark, but the orange glow of the fires outside the window illuminated enough to see that they were much brighter than when I had laid down...

"Ah fuck!" With a jolt of adrenaline, I yelped and scrambled to an upright position, only to realize that I was lying on a couch that was rapidly becoming engulfed in flames.

As I came up above the cushions, I had to shield my face from the heat of the flames that were now licking up the back. I pushed myself off the couch, gasping for breathable oxygen in vain; every breath choked me more as smoke filled my lungs. I buried my face in the crook of my arm and called out.

"Michael!" My voice cracked with fear and desperation as I coughed harder and harder, trying to call out through the thick, pitch-black smoke. No response came - just the roar of raging flames. I lurched forward, but it was too hot to brave them, and I stumbled backward with tears streaming down my face, nearly tripping over an end table.

It hit me with a sickening thud - this was a death sentence, devouring every inch of the apartment faster than I could blink. If Michael had been in the back... There was no time left. The flames were beginning to lick at appliances in the kitchen - it would reach the gas line soon enough, and then we'd all be blown sky-high.

"Michael! Tell me you ain't dead man!" I screamed, my voice hoarse as I desperately peered through the flames in search of my friend.

I couldn't focus through the wave of panic threatening to consume me whole, but I knew one thing: I was on the third floor. This was not the first apartment to catch fire. There would be other apartments like this one already lost to this inferno. Other kitchens overrun by hungry flames. Other gas lines currently glowing red hot and fated to rupture.

The entire complex could go up in a flash at any moment.

The couch finally burst into flames, pushing me back and I knew that whether or not Michael was still alive, my own clock was running out. I could either die or try to escape – and there was only one real choice. I had to leave, now, there was no other choice.

Rage and despair filled me as I contemplated my friend's fate. A cascade of emotions threatened to buckle my knees, but I held onto a single desperate hope - that Michael had somehow escaped before the fire started. Gone out on his own, a walk or something.

One thing I did know was that Michael would never leave me to such a gruesome death.

I also imagined that hearing Michael scream as he burned alive would have woken me much sooner. Either way, I had to go, there wasn't time to ponder Michael's whereabouts, I could only pray for the best and do what I needed to do.

Fear gave me wings as I turned and bolted for the door, slipping on melting carpet and furniture, but pushed ahead, ignoring the burns that bloomed on my hand as I grabbed the door handle, shutting out the sound of my own flesh sizzling and searing against the metal handle.

Heaving open the door, I was met with an onslaught of scorching heat rising from below.

My mind reeled as I surveyed my limited options - behind me was an ever expanding sea of flames, to my right were stairs engulfed in flames, to my left a thirty foot high drop to near certain death, but at least it wasn't on fire. I knew if I stayed I would burn alive, but if I jumped I might survive - if the fall didn't kill me first.

I could probably dash through the flames at least one story and jump off the railing there and survive a fall from that height. I grit my teeth in determination as I lunged towards the stairs, narrowly avoiding searing tongues of fire lapping at my back. I was so close - I could almost touch freedom - but then, with a shuddering crash, the stairs collapsed into the fire and I knew I had no other choice but to make a desperate leap for survival.

I twisted around to look back at the railing, angry at myself for taking what was, in retrospect, the foolish choice. The door I had just pushed out of was now gushing flames, fresh oxygen pouring into the apartment and feeding the beast.

I pushed through the wall of fire and sprinted towards the railing at the far side of the building. I clambered onto it and peered down, my heart in my throat. The thirty-foot drop to the ground below was dizzying, and the decks beneath me were encased in a raging inferno. Dropping from railing to railing was out of the question: I'd be cooked alive before I could reach a lower level.

A tremendous explosion shook the frame of the building and sent me careening against the edge of the railing. The oppressive heat burned into my skin as white-hot fire spewed up the side of the building to my left, emanating from a floor below.

I held my arm protectively over my face and took one last look for an escape route—but all I saw beneath me was a tiny shrub barely three feet tall. It wasn't much, but it was thick and evergreen...it might absorb enough impact from the thirty-foot fall to keep me from dying on impact.

My mouth tensed into a hard line. It was either jump and die or stay and burn—I decided to take my chances. I climbed onto the railing, facing away from the dangerous drop, wedging my feet between two supports on either side of me. I ran through calculations inside my head: a four-story plunge had a fifty-fifty chance of killing anyone, but if I aimed myself just right a three-story dive could provide a realistic chance of survival—as long as I didn't hit my head on impact. I was probably going to shatter every bone in my body, but it was a better alternative to burning to death.

I clenched the support until my knuckles whitened and gently extricated my feet from beneath the railing, allowing myself to dangle in the air. The roaring blaze below reached up to burn my toes. I could smell the rubber of my shoes melting.

I gauged the height - twenty-five feet? Twenty-four? Enough to do some real damage. My ankles were bound to break, and potentially both of my legs would too.

I hung by one hand, turning and craning my neck as I searched for the shrub, some ten feet out from the building with a bed of pea gravel beneath it. The pea gravel was a good thing. Depending on how deep it was, it create a rolling splash zone of sorts. Like jumping into a sadistic ball pit, but it was better than solid ground.

Combined with the bush... Maybe it would cushion my fall and spare me some agony - if I could only push myself out far enough to reach it. But in my current position, I had no way to leap ten feet backwards from a dangling position. I hadn't thought this through. "Idiot!" I chided myself. I reached back and grabbed the balcony with both hands again, and was met with a sight of horror.

In the few seconds I had looked away, the fire had advanced. The balcony I was clinging to was now completely engulfed, hot enough to singe my fingertips, forcing me to look to my side and hold my breath, every blast of air I attempted to inhale burning my throat. My instincts screamed at me to let go, but I wasn't ready yet - despite the pain, I hung on tight and forced myself to time this perfectly or risk being crushed beneath a burning building.

I had scarcely a second to decide before my reflexes would lock me in a freefall towards my fate.

I took one last look down and saw the balcony below me, engulfed but still intact - nothing had yet crumbled or burned away. It was only five feet below me. If I could land on it, I might be able to use it to leap backwards. Assuming it was as solid as it looked and not going to turn to ash the moment I landed on it.

Laughing at the absurdity of it all, I cast away all inhibition and plummeted straight down, stomach lurching as I braced myself for impact.

My feet hit the railing beneath me and I felt it buckle, but hold strong - thank God for good engineering. My pant leg caught fire instantly in the intensity of the heat.

My body followed through with its own inertia of my fall and I curled into a crouch, hands swinging low to meet the edge of the balcony - embers searing the back of my hands as they made contact. A hot surge of adrenaline rushed through me as I weaponized the pain, using it to propel myself backward into open space.