13/12/2025
I carried my elderly neighbor down nine flights during a fire — two days later, a man showed up at my door and said, "YOU DID IT ON PURPOSE. YOU'RE A DISGRACE!"
I'm a single father to my twelve-year-old son, Nick. It's been just the two of us since his mom passed. We live on the ninth floor of an old apartment building.
That Tuesday, right after dinner, the fire alarm went off — but this time it wasn't a drill. Smoke was already creeping into the hallway.
I grabbed Nick and ran down the stairs with everyone else. When we made it outside, I knelt in front of him.
"Stay here with the neighbors. I need to get Mrs. Lawrence."
Our next-door neighbor, Mrs. Lawrence, lived alone and couldn't walk. A retired English teacher, she'd become like family to us — baking pies, helping Nick with homework, telling him stories that made him love books more than video games. She never asked for anything in return.
The elevators had shut down. She had no way out.
When I reached her floor, she was in the hallway in her wheelchair, shaking.
"Oh thank God," she cried. "The elevators aren't working. How am I supposed to get down?"
"I'll carry you," I said.
She stared at me, stunned, but nodded. I lifted her into my arms and started down the smoky stairwell. By the fifth floor, my legs shook, but I didn't stop. When we reached the lobby, Nick ran to her, helping her breathe.
Firefighters arrived minutes later. Our apartments were fine — the worst damage was two floors above — but the elevators were out for days, so after the firefighters cleared the building, I had to carry her back up all nine flights.
I got her settled inside and checked on her whenever I could. She thanked me so many times I lost count.
Two days later, just as I was making dinner, someone pounded on my door.
I opened it to find a man in his fifties glaring at me, face twisted with anger.
"We need to talk," he growled. "I know what you did during that fire. YOU DID IT ON PURPOSE. YOU'RE A DISGRACE!"
