Mika
I hurriedly followed my great-grandfather's direction, my heart racing as I sought refuge in the cramped storage closet. The closet was thick with the scent of cleaning supplies—sudsy detergents, disinfectants, and a hint of something faintly citrusy.
“Stay down and quiet; they must not know you’re here,” he whispered urgently, his voice low yet steady, instilling a sense of urgency in my veins. The weight of his words pressed upon me as I crouched beneath the shelf, my breath hitching in my throat.
A loud, jarring knock echoed through the house, reverberating off the walls and invading our sanctuary. I could feel the tension in the air; my great-grandfather's eyes filled with both resolve and fear as he braced himself for whatever was to come.
The knocking on the door grew more
