Status: Updates are sporadic and may occur at whim, but I do try to add chapters regularly.
Silent Nights
Panicked
“She’s been gone a while.” Drew makes a noncommittal noise and continues wiping dried, sticky blood off the shotgun. Anna scowls at him for a moment, and then she shifts her accusing glare to me.
“It hasn’t been that long.” I drop my eyes to the gunked-up gun in my own hands, but not before catching her unimpressed eye roll. I pull the bullets from the magazine one at a time, making sure they’re alright before setting them to the side.
“Well,” Anna snorts, “A lot of help you two are.” She gets to her feet and stomps across the room. I open my mouth to tell her to stop making so much noise, but another sound from somewhere downstairs catches my attention. I glance at Drew and see that he’s stopped moving. He’s staring at the floor, but I can tell he’s listening too. Anna, however, is still muttering about ‘useless boys’.
“Anna,” Drew hisses, and she immediately freezes, looking back at him with one hand already on the doorknob. There’s another thump from the first floor, this time clearly from inside the house. The annoyed look vanishes from Anna’s face and she quickly backs away from the door. Drew sets the shotgun on the floor and gets to his feet. I dump the pieces of a handgun off my lap and I lean forward to twist the knob on the lantern to ‘off’.
“It’s probably just Sara, right?” Anna murmurs from across the room. I get to my feet and carefully pick my way through the maze of blankets and bags to get to the door. Anna inhales sharply when I grab her arm and carefully move her to the side. Once I manage to get my hand on the doorknob, I slowly twist it and ease the door open. Drew puts a hand on my arm once the door’s halfway open and whispers ‘listen’. This room is at the opposite end of the hall from the stairs, but I can just make out the murmurs of quiet, rushed sentences.
Drew slips through the gap and silently stalks toward the other end of the hallway. I follow after him, carefully placing each step to avoid making any noise. After a few feet Drew holds a hand back, accidentally catching me in the ribs, and we pause just beside the stairs. Now that we’re closer, I can hear the conversation- which must be just at the bottom of the steps- more clearly.
“-going to look at it, okay? It’ll be fine. Please, no, don’t cry. It’s fine, okay?” The voice is Sara’s, but I can’t fathom what would have her so panicked. And is she talking to someone else? Drew drops his hand and moves to stand at the top of the stairs. He flicks on a flashlight then, something I should have thought to pick up too, and I step up behind him.
The scene below us is something I would never have expected to see. Sara barely spares us a glance before turning her attention back to a tiny, dirty, terrified little girl with tears running down her face. The girl- who can’t be more than four or five years old- is still staring up at us, though, ignoring the stream of frantic pleas from our formerly imperturbable companion. When she does finally look away, it’s not at Sara but down the hall toward the back door. I look at Drew. He opens his mouth but doesn’t have a chance to say anything.
“No, please don’t cry,” Sara pleads, her voice getting louder in response to the increase in tears. She’s desperate, and the way she’s kneeling in front of the girl suddenly reminds me of someone praying. “Everything is fine, okay?” I’m not sure who she’s trying to convince, but the little girl finally looks up at Sara. “You wanted to come inside, right?” The girl looks back toward the door without answering.
“It hasn’t been that long.” I drop my eyes to the gunked-up gun in my own hands, but not before catching her unimpressed eye roll. I pull the bullets from the magazine one at a time, making sure they’re alright before setting them to the side.
“Well,” Anna snorts, “A lot of help you two are.” She gets to her feet and stomps across the room. I open my mouth to tell her to stop making so much noise, but another sound from somewhere downstairs catches my attention. I glance at Drew and see that he’s stopped moving. He’s staring at the floor, but I can tell he’s listening too. Anna, however, is still muttering about ‘useless boys’.
“Anna,” Drew hisses, and she immediately freezes, looking back at him with one hand already on the doorknob. There’s another thump from the first floor, this time clearly from inside the house. The annoyed look vanishes from Anna’s face and she quickly backs away from the door. Drew sets the shotgun on the floor and gets to his feet. I dump the pieces of a handgun off my lap and I lean forward to twist the knob on the lantern to ‘off’.
“It’s probably just Sara, right?” Anna murmurs from across the room. I get to my feet and carefully pick my way through the maze of blankets and bags to get to the door. Anna inhales sharply when I grab her arm and carefully move her to the side. Once I manage to get my hand on the doorknob, I slowly twist it and ease the door open. Drew puts a hand on my arm once the door’s halfway open and whispers ‘listen’. This room is at the opposite end of the hall from the stairs, but I can just make out the murmurs of quiet, rushed sentences.
Drew slips through the gap and silently stalks toward the other end of the hallway. I follow after him, carefully placing each step to avoid making any noise. After a few feet Drew holds a hand back, accidentally catching me in the ribs, and we pause just beside the stairs. Now that we’re closer, I can hear the conversation- which must be just at the bottom of the steps- more clearly.
“-going to look at it, okay? It’ll be fine. Please, no, don’t cry. It’s fine, okay?” The voice is Sara’s, but I can’t fathom what would have her so panicked. And is she talking to someone else? Drew drops his hand and moves to stand at the top of the stairs. He flicks on a flashlight then, something I should have thought to pick up too, and I step up behind him.
The scene below us is something I would never have expected to see. Sara barely spares us a glance before turning her attention back to a tiny, dirty, terrified little girl with tears running down her face. The girl- who can’t be more than four or five years old- is still staring up at us, though, ignoring the stream of frantic pleas from our formerly imperturbable companion. When she does finally look away, it’s not at Sara but down the hall toward the back door. I look at Drew. He opens his mouth but doesn’t have a chance to say anything.
“No, please don’t cry,” Sara pleads, her voice getting louder in response to the increase in tears. She’s desperate, and the way she’s kneeling in front of the girl suddenly reminds me of someone praying. “Everything is fine, okay?” I’m not sure who she’s trying to convince, but the little girl finally looks up at Sara. “You wanted to come inside, right?” The girl looks back toward the door without answering.