What was that?
Suddenly, my mom storms back into the room.
“Mom? What’s wrong?”
“No time,” she mutters. She crawls under the bed and grabs the gun they never keep loaded.
Until she finally fishes a box from the top shelves of the closet and puts the bullets inside herself.
“Mom, what’s happening?” I ask. “You’re scaring me.”
“Go to the bathroom,” she says, her voice more anxious than I’ve ever heard. “Hide.”
“What? Why?” I say, yawning. “I thought it was time to sl—”
“NOW!” she growls right in my face.
I gulp back the fear and tears.
“And be quiet. Don’t make a sound.” She puts her fingers over her lips. “No matter what you hear, do not come out. Okay?”
I nod a few times, trying to understand.
“I know it’s hard, but you gotta do what I tell you, okay?” she adds, and she adds another kiss. “Now go.”
I don’t wait for another second as I run out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. I close the door and hide inside the bathtub, then pull the curtains.
I’m shivering. Cold. Tired. Panicking all alone.
Don’t make a sound. Don’t make a sound.
BANG!
I cover my ears with my hands and make myself as small as possible, hiding in the corner of this bath, praying no one will find me here.
But nothing prepares me for my mother’s scream.
It’s so loud and high pitched that it enters my lungs and makes me hold my breath.
What’s happening to her and Papa? What’s going on?
I can’t move. Momma told me to stay here and hide, no matter how hard it gets, even though I really want to go out there and help her.
But how long should I stay?
Suddenly, the door opens.
I hold my breath and stay frozen to the bathtub.
The toilet seat is lifted, and it sounds like someone is puking.
I really want to peek, but I force myself to remain still, guarded and vigilant.
But a tiny sliver of the curtain isn’t closed, and I can see past it through the mirror where a girl with flowing black hair and pristine white skin is washing her face.
And our eyes connect.
My heart skips a beat.