Hours after:
After what felt like an endless drive, I finally reached home. Sliding the key into the lock, I heard the familiar click. The door creaked open, and at once, I noticed it—the silence. Eerily quiet. Too quiet.
In our house, silence was unnatural. We were always a lively family—voices, laughter, arguments bouncing off the walls. Now, nothing. Only the hollow echo of my own footsteps as I moved deeper inside.
I stepped into the dark living room, my voice breaking the stillness.
"Mom? Dad? Where are y—"
My breath hitched. The words died in my throat.
There—broad shoulders, the silhouette of a man standing in the gloom. A gun glinted faintly in his right hand. His suit was immaculate, jet black. His hair, slicked back with gel, shone in the dim light. His aura radiated menace, thick and suffocating.
And then my gaze dropped—
Blood. So much blood. A dark pool spread across the floor, soaking into the rug. My parents' lifeless bodies lay motionless in it. Empty. Cold.
The man's presence was terrifying—yet… familiar. Too familiar.
He began to turn. My heart froze.
And then—
I jerked awake, gasping, sweat clinging to my skin. Tears blurred my vision, hot trails rolling down my face. I was crying, my chest aching with the weight of it.
Above me, my mom's face swam into focus. Concern etched her features, confusion in her eyes—but she pulled me close anyway. Her arms wrapped around me, strong and trembling, holding me out of both fear and comfort.
This was the first time we'd embraced in so long.
"Sweetie… are you okay?" Her voice was soft, gentle—soothing, like honey.
That broke me. I sobbed harder, burying my face in her chest. I may be twenty-one, but in that moment, I was just a child again. A child who still craved her mother's embrace.
And I couldn't let go. I clung to her as though she was the only thing tethering me to this world.
"Mom, don't ever leave me, please."
The words slipped out desperate—too desperate. A voice I had never used before with my parents, afraid it would sound too needy. But I couldn't hold it back. There's a first time for everything.
Thankfully, my mother noticed the change in me but didn't comment. She just held me tighter.
"I will never leave, Bella. Don't worry."
At that moment, I felt the most vulnerable I had ever been. She laid down beside me, her warmth surrounding me like a shield against my nightmares. Slowly, my breathing eased. Safe in her arms, I let go of the fear and drifted back to sleep.
2 hours before:
I push the door open as I return from college, every step heavy with exhaustion. My voice drifts into the living room, flat and tired.
"Mom, Dad, I'm back!"
The soft hum of the TV answers me first. They're on the couch, relaxed—Mom munching on chips, nestled into Dad's side. His arm rests around her shoulders in a calm, protective way. They look… at peace. Looks like they finally made up. Relief flickers through me at the sight.
"Oh, Bella, you're back," Mom says warmly.
I nod, lifting a lazy thumbs-up before dragging myself toward the stairs. Each step feels like it might be the last straw for my legs. By the time I reach the top, I'm nearly collapsing.
My room greets me in a warm glow as I flick on the lights. Cozy, safe, inviting. I drop my bag on the floor like it weighs a ton and throw myself onto the bed, limbs sprawled like a sack of potatoes.
"just a small nap and i will get up, just…..3…0…min-"
The sentence dies on my lips. My eyes close. My body gives in. I drift into sleep, the weight of the day pulling me under.