The Forgotten Past
701 Words
"Camila, baby, get up!" Mom’s voice is a jagged blade cutting through the darkness. She bursts into my room, shivering, her eyes wide with a terror I’ve never seen before.
"What’s wrong, Mama?" I sit upright, rubbing sleep from my eyes, but she doesn't give me time to wake. She pulls me from the bed, her movements frantic as she shoves me into a thick knitted jacket.
"Why am I wearing this? Are we going somewhere?" I ask, my heart beginning to race. "Where’s Papa? Is he coming, too?"
She stares at me, and I see the dam of her composure breaking. She is physically restraining her tears. "Ma?" I whisper.
She inhales a shuddering breath. "Something happened, sweetie. I can't explain it now. Just do exactly as I say... okay?" Before I can respond, she grabs my wrist. We sprint toward the hallway, but a deafening c***k—the unmistakable sound of gunfire—freezes us in our tracks. We drop to our knees, huddled against the wall.
Fear, cold and paralyzing, washes over me. The thunder of the shots echoes through the mansion, ringing in my ears until they ache.
"Hurry, Camila!" We scramble toward the master bedroom. Mom locks the door behind us and rushes to the walk-in closet, standing before a massive, floor-length Victorian mirror. Her hands move with practiced desperation, triggering a hidden mechanism. The heavy glass frame shudders, sliding away from the wall to reveal a cold, steel door.
I’ve lived in this house my entire life, yet I never knew this existed. It looks like a tomb. A safe room.
"Come here, Camila!" she calls, but I am rooted to the spot by sheer shock.
"Come to Mama, now!" she yells. I begin to sob, an instinctual dread taking hold of me.
"I don’t want to go in there, Mom! What’s happening outside? Where is Papa?" My screams fill the room.
She lunges for me, pulling me into her trembling arms. "I know, sweetie. Believe me, I am just as scared. Papa is outside trying to protect us, and I have to go help him. Do you understand?" She cups my face, her skin ice-cold against mine. "There are bad people out there, Camila. This room is the only place you’ll be safe. It’s comfortable—there are snacks, blankets, a bed, a TV. It’s the safest place in the world once the door is locked."
Her eyes are raw, bloodshot, and frantic.
"Mom—" I cling to her, terrified.
"I’m sorry, baby. I have to leave you."
"Why don’t you just stay with me?" Another volley of gunfire explodes outside, closer this time. I cover my ears, shrieking.
"We have no time!" she cries, pressing a desperate kiss to my forehead before she forcefully pushes me into the steel chamber. "Stay strong, protect yourself, and be quiet. Don't make a sound."
She closes the heavy door, and the metallic click sounds like a gavel. I am alone. "Don't go, Mama," I whisper into the void. "Please, don't leave me."
"Camila, it’s time to wake up."
Raphael’s voice pulls at me, a deep anchor trying to drag me out of the nightmare, but I am caught in the undertow. The memory is too vivid, the air in the safe room too thin.
In my mind, I see the aftermath. Mom never came back. The silence that followed the gunfire was worse than the noise. I remember the red unlock button I found, the trembling step into the hallway, the desperate calls for my parents that were met with nothing but the copper scent of blood. I remember tripping over a body—a man in familiar clothes—and the horror of flipping him over to find my father’s face.
I wake with a gasp, tears streaming down my face. Raphael is holding my hands, his grip tight. Nana Eloisa stands in the corner with Dr. Mendez, who has just finished the sleep hypnosis session.
"Finally," Raphael breathes, pulling me into a crushing embrace. I bury my face in his chest.
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