8 Years Ago III
As we crept down the hallways, my heart pounded in my chest. I had to find mom and dad, make sure they were okay. Cheryl's hand trembled in mine, nut she didn't say a word. We had to be quiet, we didn't want to get caught. Thankfully, the commotion outside kept the bad men busy.
There were two doors at the end of the hall, the door to the room where my parents were kept and a slightly ajar door. I peered in to the room where my mom and dad were held captive, trying to make out what was going on. That was when I saw my parents. I stopped dead in my tracks.
Dad, lay lifeless on the floor, his shirt stained with a crimson pool. Blood seeped from his stomach, where the bullet has pierced his skin.
Mom was wedged beside him, her shoulder bleeding as blood seeped down to the floor. The bullet wound was a small, ragged hole in Mom's shoulder, with a slightly larger exit wound in the back, oozing blood.
Those two gunshots I heard, he shot them, I said to myself as I was overcome with rage and fear.
Cheryl whispered my name, her voice trembling, but I just stood there, frozen in horror.
Mom's eyes met mine, and for a moment, we just stared at each other. I saw the fear and pain in her gaze, and my heart shattered into a million pieces. I took a step forward, but Mom's gaze flicked to the side, and she mouthed, "No."
Something in her expression made me hesitate. I looked in the direction she was looking, and that's when I saw him. The man in the chair. He was standing off to the side, his gun raised, his eyes fixed on Mom.
Suddenly he turned and noticed Cheryl and I standing by the door. His eyes went wild with excitement as he let out a huge, amused grin.
"Oh? Come to join the party?" He drawled as he hovered over my mother.
"Let them be, I'm the one you want." Mom pleaded with him, her hand stretched out over dad's body.
"You brought this upon yourself, Melody." His face was in close proximity with hers, "If I can't have you, no one else can. Not even your kids."
Mom's eyes went wide with horror, "RUN!!!" she screamed at me.
With that, the man stood upright and shot her, straight through her skull. A sharp crack pierced the air, making me jump back to my senses. I tightened my grip on Cheryl and ran. Without a moment's thought. As fast as my legs could carry me. To the slightly ajar door.
I pushed the door open with as much force as possible. The door led outside, but it wasn't any better than inside. It was a war zone out there, men were fighting with knives and guns, punching one another. That meant nothing to me. All I cared about was getting away safely with Cheryl.
There was a pathway that led away from the door but it was occupied with men and vans. The road was covered with dirt, and had trees on both sides lined up with bushes in between. I had to think fast, every second mattered in that moment. I dragged Cheryl to the right side of the path and ran.
"Get those girls!!!" A loud voice bellowed from behind us.
Using the trees as camouflage, we ran, pricked by thorns from the bushes, our clothes torn and pieces of our flesh hanging like cloths on the branches. Cheryl cried out with pain in her eyes and immediately, tears dropped from mine as well.
It seemed as though we ran for an eternity. Breathing heavily, we finally made it to the main road, there were no cars on the street and we were seconds away from collapsing. My knees gave way beneath me and I stumbled, in the middle of the road.
HONK!
The sound of a car horn jolted me awake. I groggily opened my eyes to see a pair of headlights getting bigger and closer. I blinked, disoriented and saw that Cheryl was lying beside me, her small body trembling.
I scrambled to my feet, pulling Cheryl up with me, but my legs felt like jelly.
We stumbled and I almost fell, but managed to regain my balance. The car screeched to a halt just a few feet away from us, and I raised a hand, shielding my eyes from the bright headlights.
A door swung open and a man stepped out, his features obscured by the glare of the headlights. "Hey, hey, are you two okay?" he called out with a firm but gentle tone.
I squinted, trying to see him better.
A figure emerged from the passenger side, a boy about my age with messy dark hair and piercing hazel eyes. He looked at me with a mix of concern and curiosity.
The man approached us cautiously, his hands held out in a calming gesture. "It's okay, we're not going to hurt you. What's going on? You two look like you've been through a lot."
I hesitated, unsure of what to say or do as the boy stared at me intently.
"What's your name?" the man asked, reaching his hand out to me.
"A-a-ayla." I stammered. "Ayla Monsoe."
The man's expression softened, and he quickly shrugged off his jacket, wrapping it around Cheryl and I. "Get in the car, we'll get you somewhere safe."
That's weird. How did he know we were in danger? I asked myself as we got into the car.
Cheryl tugged at my dress, snapping me out of my thoughts. I hugged her tightly, "It's okay, it's okay. I think we're safe." I cooed to her.
I looked up at the man and the boy, a sense of wariness still lingering. "Who are you?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
"My name's Cassian, I'm a friend of your father." He explained as he steered the car, "And I'm here to help."
As I wrapped in the warmth of the jacket, the gentle tone of the man's voice, and the kindness in his eyes were the last things I remembered before exhaustion consumed me.
I must have fallen asleep in the car, because the next thing I knew, I was lying in a cozy bed, staring up at a familiar ceiling. The soft, creamy paint and the floral pattern on the walls told me I was in Grandma's house.
I turned my head, and Grandma's warm smile greeted me. She was sitting beside me, her hands clasped together in her lap.
"Welcome back, sweetie," she said, her voice soothing. "You've been asleep for a long time."
I tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness washed over me, and Grandma gently pushed me back down.
"Easy, Ayla. You've been through a lot. Don't worry, Cheryl is fine. She's been sleeping in the next room."
Relief washed over me as I let out a breath. But then I remembered the man and the boy who had helped us. "Grandma, who were those people?" I asked, my voice still groggy.
Her expression turned serious, and she took a deep breath before answering. "That was your uncle, Ayla. He's been looking out for you and Cheryl."
Uncle? I didn't know I had an uncle.
But before I could ask more questions, Grandma continued, "You're safe now, Ayla. You're home with me, and I'll take care of you and Cheryl. We'll get through this together."
As I looked around the cozy room, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. I was safe. We were safe. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I could breathe again.
We stayed with Grandma in her house out of the city for what felt like an eternity. It was a peaceful, quiet life, far removed from the chaos we endured.
But as the years passed, I knew we'd eventually have to return to reality. And when I turned 18, Grandma helped us prepare to move back to the city, to start anew.