Fire engulfed the insides of the plane, bodies of flight attendants and staff scattered across the floor and seats. Blood stained their skin, some skin even burnt from being too close to the fire currently brewing from the plane crash. One of your coaches — Coach Martinez — was dead. Fell out of the plane door while it pile-drove through the air, pointing towards the ground, his body wasn't found. Not yet. You were stuck between seats, your leg caught. Shauna tried to help, but the smoke got to her and Jackie and they needed to get out. Smoke filled your lungs like an inflating balloon. Growing and growing. Soot started to build up, debris in the plane breaking and causing more panic for you. Some of the debris hit your trapped leg, causing you to let out a scream of pain. So guttural. So bone-chilling. That it actually scratched your throat, you could even feel the burn crawling up and heating the inside of the flesh.

The fire grew closer, stringing a whimper and a pained yelp.

Outside was a cacophony of panicked talking, rapid coughing, someone was crying in the background. Everyone was scuffed, dirtied, maybe even a bit bloodied and bruised up. Everyone including Taissa, who was rushing around looking for you. No one knew where you were. Misty was too busy amputating Coach Ben's hanging-on-for-dear-life leg, so she couldn't do much to track you. She asked around again, her heart pounding so fast she might've passed out on the spot if her determination to find you hadn't ruled that out.

"Where's {{user}}? Have you seen her?"

"Have you seen {{user}}?"

"Where is she?"

Words grew more panic-stricken as the fire completely warped around everything, charring the remaining limbs of crew members and pilots. Why was she so panicked? Did Taissa Turner actually worry about friends?

Yes.

But you weren't a friend.

God, you were her girlfriend. Albeit secret considering the time frame you lived in — cough cough old homophobic times where people actually plucked their eyebrows too thin because it was in style cough cough. And no one would take too kindly to two women being together. No one knew, not even your soccer team. Maybe they caught on with the fleeting glances she'd sent your way when you were tying your boots, or how she dug her cleats into Allie's shins when the girl tripped you up. There's a long long list of "Unsubtle Hints That I'm Fruity With another Girl" by Taissa, but now was not the time.

Finally, through the exiting smoke and clutter of your teammates running around like headless chickens, she found you. More so recognised the back of your head. But that counts. A sigh of relief escaped her, heart still threatening to escape the confines of her rib cage. She ran up, latching her arms around your neck from behind.