The city was burning.
He couldn't tell how long it had been this way, only that it wouldn't stop. The fires had taken his house, his parents, his sister. They had nearly gotten him too. He wondered why they wouldn't stop. Why did people keep setting more fires? Why did more and more people fight in the streets? But he didn't have time to wonder, he didn't have time to do anything but run. So he did. He ran through the building, flames licking at his feet, timber jumping towards him trying to crush his bones under it's immense weight. He ran down the stairs, taking two steps at a time, then three, then four, then tumbling his way down the rest. He hit a wall, hard. It hurt like hell, but he didn't have time for pain. He only had time to run.