CHAPTER 5
1303 Words
Lyra
Seren leaves just after midnight.
I stand at the front door longer than necessary, my hand still resting on the knob as I watch her walk down the narrow path that leads away from the house. She turns once, lifting her hand in a lazy wave, and I wave back, smiling until she disappears around the corner.
Only then do I shut the door.
The silence hits me immediately.
The house feels strangely empty after—too quiet, like it’s holding its breath. The soft hum of the refrigerator, the ticking clock in the hallway, the distant wind brushing against the windows… everything sounds louder in the absence of voices.
Mom and Dad still aren’t home.
That part isn’t unusual. They’ve always worked late, always had meetings that stretched longer than planned. But tonight, the silence presses in on me differently. It settles heavy in my chest, making it harder to breathe.
I lock the door, double-checking it without really knowing why, then turn toward the stairs.
Upstairs, my room feels like a refuge.
Familiar. Safe. The walls are still covered with posters I haven’t taken down yet, boxes half-unpacked from our last move stacked neatly in the corner. I don’t bother changing. I crawl into bed fully dressed, curling onto my side as the faint scent of the club still clings to my skin—perfume, smoke, sweat, something darker beneath it all.
My mind refuses to slow.
Flashes of the night replay behind my eyes: the lights, the music vibrating through my bones, Seren laughing, the stranger’s voice—low, smooth, impossible to forget. The way my chest still feels tight, like something invisible has wrapped itself around my heart and refused to let go.
I clutch my pillow and close my eyes.
Sleep comes fast.
Too fast.
“Lyra!”
The sound of my name rips me out of darkness.
I jolt upright, heart slamming violently against my ribs just as my bedroom door flies open. The overhead light snaps on, blinding me. My parents rush in, breathless and frantic, their movements sharp and uncoordinated.
They look… wrong.
Their faces are pale, drawn tight with fear in a way I’ve never seen before. My mother’s hair is slightly disheveled, her eyes red like she’s already been crying. My father’s jaw is clenched, his shoulders rigid as if he’s bracing for impact.
“Mom?” My voice comes out hoarse. “Dad?”
“We need to move,” my mother says immediately, her voice breaking on the last word. “Now.”
My heart stutters painfully. I swing my legs off the bed, confusion rushing in fast and thick. “What? Why?” I try to laugh, but it comes out thin and shaky. “Don’t tell me Dad has a new job again. We just got here.”
Dad is suddenly in front of me, gripping my shoulders. His hands are firm—but they’re trembling.
“Baby,” he says softly, urgently, “there’s a lot you don’t know. A lot we should have told you sooner. But I promise—I’ll explain everything on the way.”
The way he says everything makes my stomach drop.
Before I can ask another question, Mom pulls me into her arms. She holds me tightly, desperately, like she’s afraid if she lets go I’ll vanish. Her tears soak into my hair, hot and real.
“I love you, baby,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “No matter what happens… you are my child. Always.”
Fear blooms in my chest—sharp, overwhelming, undeniable.
This isn’t about a job.
This is something else.
Dad presses something cold into my palm. I look down to see a necklace resting there—simple, old, the chain slightly worn, the pendant heavier than it looks.
“Take this,” he says urgently. “You must not lose it. Ever.”
“What about packing?” Panic rises, choking my words. “My clothes—my things—”
“No time,” Mom snaps, already dragging me toward the door. “We can’t.”
“But I’m finally settling down!” I cry, tears spilling freely now. “For the first time—I have a friend. I have a life. Please—”
Something crashes downstairs.
The sound is violent, explosive. The walls tremble.
Dad swears under his breath and scoops me up without hesitation, practically carrying me down the stairs. Another loud bang follows, closer this time. The house shudders like it’s being torn apart from the inside.
Voices echo below—angry, distorted, not quite human.
“They’ve found us,” Dad says tightly.
My blood turns to ice.
“Who found us?” I sob, clutching his shirt. “Mommy, you’re scaring me.”
She stops abruptly at the bottom of the stairs, forcing Dad to halt too. She cups my face in her hands, her touch trembling but tender. Her eyes shine with terror and love and something else entirely—something final.
“Baby, listen to me,” she says softly. “I’ll explain everything in the car, my princess.”
The word hits me like a blow.
She hasn’t called me that in years.
We burst out of the house just as something shatters behind us. Glass explodes outward. The voices grow louder, closer. The ground vibrates beneath my feet as if the world itself is cracking open.
Dad throws me into the back seat and jumps into the driver’s seat. The engine roars to life. Tires screech as we take off at terrifying speed, the house shrinking behind us in a blur of lights and shadows.
The world outside the windows streaks past, unrecognizable.
My parents are quiet now.
Too quiet.
Calm in a way that makes my chest ache.
Questions scream inside my head, clawing at my throat, but none of them make it past my lips. I clutch the necklace in my fist so tightly it bites into my skin.
Then Mom turns to look at me.
“My baby,” she says, smiling through tears. “I need you to know—I never wanted things to end like this. I never wanted you to find out this way.”
My pulse roars in my ears. “Find out what?”
Dad reaches across the console, taking her hand and squeezing it tightly.
“Lyra,” he says, his voice breaking completely, “we aren’t your real parents.”
The words don’t make sense.
They hover in the air between us—hollow, unreal, wrong.
“What?” I whisper.
The crash comes without warning.
Metal screams.
Glass shatters.
The world flips violently.
Pain explodes everywhere at once.
Everything becomes noise and light and chaos. I’m screaming—or maybe I’m not. I can’t tell. My body feels like it’s been torn apart and stitched back together wrong.
The car finally jerks to a stop.
“Mom! Dad!” I sob, clawing my way toward them.
There’s blood.
Too much blood.
It’s everywhere—on the seats, the floor, my hands. My fingers shake as I press them against my mother, trying desperately to make it stop.
“Mommy, please,” I beg. “Please don’t go.”
Her hand finds mine, weak but still warm. Her grip tightens just enough to hold me.
“The necklace,” she whispers. “It will lead you to the answers you seek.”
Her fingers loosen.
“No,” I cry. “No—no—no—”
Her hand falls.
The world caves in.
Voices surround me—shouts, footsteps, unfamiliar sounds. I can’t focus. My vision blurs through tears until—
I see him.
A face in the distance.
Familiar.
Unfamiliar.
Watching me.
And then—
Everything goes dark
- Writer
