Disclaimer: Is my name Charlotte Bronte? No? Then I don't own Jane Eyre.

A/N: Many thanks to Darkholme13 for suggesting this idea for my second drabble.

Flames. Blazing bright, high hot. I laughed wildly, spinning in a circle. My laughter died to a keening whimper – remembering – remembering –

Men.

Machetes.

The parrot.

Clipped wings.

Flaming.

Crying.

Crying.

Falling.

Falling.

'Bertha!'

The cry rose up behind me. I hissed, baring my teeth.

'I wasn't Bertha! Who was I? Bertha. Marionette. Marionetta. Antoinetta. Antoinette?

'Bertha!'

The cry rang out again. Laughter rang out below me. A sparkling pool, dappled with sunlight.

'Come on, jump! You're not scared are you?

Laughter. Sunshine. Warmth. Memory.

'A girl – what was her name? Tia!'

Tia called again,beckoned. I laughed. I jumped. Tia's laughter swirling around me, overwhelming the crackle of flames and the horrified, anguished cry of 'Bertha!' rising up behind me.