She was tired.
That was the first thing she remembered the way her legs ached from running down the hallway, socks sliding on crystalline tile, laughter still caught in her throat.
"Sienna, slow down," her mother called, laughing. "You'll trip."
"I won't," Sienna said, grinning over her shoulder. She never did. Her father was behind them, pretending to be offended, hand pressed dramatically to his chest.
"She gets that confidence from me," he said.
"Clearly."
Her mother rolled her eyes fondly. "You wish."
The house was warm. Too warm for the hour, filled with the quiet comfort of lights left on and music humming low from the living room. It smelled like tea and lemon polish and something sweet baking in the oven something meant for tomorrow.
Sienna didn't know then that tomorrow was a fragile thing.
Her father reached the bottom of the stairs first and turned back to her, holding out his hand. "Come on, starshine."
She took it without thinking.
Then everything changed.
Now they were on a highway talking about something everything was fine they even seemed to have resolved the issue when a blinding light hit them followed with a screeched sound.
Sienna didn't know what happened but she could see their car rolling down several times before finally coming to a halt.
The ringing sound in her eyes made her lightheaded she could see her mom trying to say something but she didn't know what.
"S–somebody help" she tried to say but failed. She could already feel herself losing consciousness.
"Sienna we are sorry" she heard her mom say.
Before passing she clearly heard two people having a conversation.
ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ ʚ♡ɞ
Sienna woke up screaming.
Her body jolted upright, breath tearing from her chest like she'd been drowning. Her hands clawed at the sheets, fingers shaking violently.
I was there instantly.
"Hey–hey–Sienna," I said, gripping her shoulders gently but firmly. "You're safe. You're here."
Her eyes were wild, unfocused, tears streaming unchecked.
"They said sorry," she sobbed. "She said she was sorry. She–she looked at me like–like I was already gone."
I pulled her into me without hesitation this time, arms tight around her as she shook.
"They killed them," she whispered. "They killed them and took me anyway."
"I know," I said, voice rough. "I know."
She clutched my shirt like it was the only thing anchoring her to the present.
"They never meant to raise me," she cried. "They meant to erase me."
I held her until the shaking slowed, until the storm inside her finally exhausted itself.
When she pulled back, her face was wet and raw but her eyes were clear.
"They wanted all of us gone," she said quietly.
Her jaw tightened.
"They don't get to decide who lives and who don't."
No.
They didn't.
And as she wiped her face, breathing steadying, I knew truly knew the reckoning hadn't just begun. It was here already.