Falling Into Shadows

chapter 1 (in the shadows)

The sound of gunshots shattered the night, sharp and violent, slashing through the quiet like the crack of a whip. My eyes flew open, and my heart lurched in my chest. It took a moment for my brain to catch up with what was happening, the suddenness of it throwing me into a state of confusion.

At first, I thought it was fireworks. Maybe someone was celebrating something. But the sound wasn’t right. Fireworks didn’t sound like that—explosive and close, like something big, something dangerous. Another shot cracked through the air, louder this time, echoing off the walls of the house. I froze, my pulse spiking.

No, this wasn’t fireworks. This was something much worse.

I sucked in a sharp breath, my whole body going rigid as the weight of the situation settled over me. The smell of fear and adrenaline hit me all at once. My mind raced to process the noise, the panic that seemed to swirl in the air, but it couldn’t. I was too young, too inexperienced. I didn’t understand what was happening, not really.

The floor beneath my bed felt cold against my feet as I slid off, moving quickly but quietly. I dropped to the ground, my legs trembling under my weight. I crawled low, hugging the floor, the shadows in the room blending with the darkness outside. My fingers brushed against the rough wood, grounding me, but it didn’t help. The panic still clawed at my insides.

Another shot rang out. Then more shouting. My stomach twisted at the sound of frantic voices, and I felt the sharp sting of fear settle deeper into my bones.

I was only thirteen. A kid. Just a kid, and the world outside my room felt like a different planet, one I wasn’t prepared to understand. I had never imagined anything like this—never even considered it might happen. Why was there a shooting? Who were those men shouting outside?

I had to know. I had to figure out what was going on.

Carefully, I pulled myself to my feet, my body shaking as I approached the window. I didn’t want to see, didn’t want to know what was happening outside, but I had to. I had to understand, to feel like I had some control over what was going on.

I pressed my face against the curtain, trying to see through the narrow gap without making a sound. The view was blurry at first, the shadows from the streetlamp outside casting long lines across the yard. Then, slowly, the figures became clearer.

Men. Black-clad figures, moving through the yard with the precision of predators. Their faces were hidden behind masks, their bodies cloaked in dark clothing that made them blend into the night. They weren’t rushing. They weren’t panicked. They moved slowly, deliberately, as if hunting something—or someone.

My heart skipped a beat as I watched them, their guns raised, the barrels gleaming in the dim light. They weren’t just looking around aimlessly; they were searching for something specific. Or someone. And I realized, with a sickening twist in my gut, that they weren’t just looking for anyone. They were looking for me.

One of the men stopped near the side gate, his rifle pointed toward the darkness beyond it. I couldn’t see what he was aiming at, but then I heard the shot. A sharp crack of sound that made my blood run cold.

And then it hit me. Mum. Dad.

They were just down the hall, in their room. I had to get to them. They would know what to do. They always did. They always kept me safe.

I didn’t think. I acted.

I turned, bolting for the door, my heart hammering in my chest as I tried to be as quiet as possible. I could hear the men still shouting outside, their voices growing closer, more frantic. My hand shook as I reached for the doorknob, the cold metal biting into my skin. I yanked it open just a crack, peering out into the hallway.

At first, I saw nothing. The hall was dark, just a sliver of moonlight creeping through the windows, casting long shadows along the floor. But then I saw it. The shadow at the far end of the hall, still and unmoving.

Dad.

Relief surged through me for a split second, until I saw what lay beneath him—dark stains spreading out across the floor, glistening in the low light.

Blood.

My breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. The world tilted around me, and I almost stumbled as I tried to process what I was seeing.

No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be real.

My legs felt like jelly as I took a step forward, my eyes fixed on Dad’s motionless form. My mind screamed at me to wake up, to understand this wasn’t happening, but the reality of it hit me like a slap. This wasn’t a dream. This was real.

And then I saw it.

Another shadow. Smaller. Crumpled.

Mum.

My stomach twisted violently, and I felt the world closing in around me. My knees buckled, but I caught myself against the wall, my hands shaking as I tried to breathe. I wanted to scream, to shout, to wake them up. To make them move. But I couldn’t. The words died in my throat.

I tried to force myself to look away, to shut my eyes to the scene in front of me, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t make it go away.

Then, the sound of voices, rough and low, broke through my thoughts.

“He’s here somewhere.”

A man’s voice. Close.

My whole body froze. They were looking for me.

“Check every room,” another voice barked, a tone of authority lacing the command.

I bolted upright, adrenaline surging through me, my pulse racing faster than I thought possible. The air felt thick, suffocating, as if I couldn’t get enough oxygen. I couldn’t think clearly. All I could hear was the pounding of my heart, the men’s voices, the sound of my breath, too loud, too quick.

They were getting closer.

I had to move.

I turned and ran back into my room, slamming the door behind me with a soft thud. I pressed my back against it, my breathing ragged as I tried to calm myself. The room was small, dark, and familiar, but it felt different now. It felt like a trap, a cage, and I was running out of time.

Think. I had to think. What could I do? What could I possibly do?

My eyes scanned the room in a frantic sweep. I remembered the crawlspace. The small opening in the corner of the ceiling. Dad had always said he’d seal it up, but he never did. Now, it was my only chance.

I moved quickly, but carefully, as I climbed up to the wall beneath the opening. My fingers dug into the edges of the drywall, my feet finding the small indentations that Dad had put there for just this reason. My muscles burned as I pulled myself upward, my body straining, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Not now.

I reached the top, gripping the edges of the hole, my heart pounding in my throat as I hoisted myself into the crawlspace. Dust filled my lungs, and the smell of old wood and insulation made me gag. I pressed myself flat against the beams, making myself as small as possible, every muscle in my body screaming at me to hide. I had to stay quiet. I had to stay still.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the room below me. I heard the men entering, their voices low, searching.

“He’s not here,” one of them muttered, and I held my breath, my body tense as I listened to them rummage through my things.

“Search everywhere,” another barked.

I heard drawers opening and slamming shut. The sound of the closet doors rattling as they threw things aside. The mattress flipped over with a thud. My heart raced faster, and every second felt like an eternity.

“There’s a hole in the ceiling,” one of them said, his voice getting closer.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat as I held perfectly still, too terrified to even blink. The beam beneath me creaked, and I tensed, every muscle in my body screaming at me to move. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t make a sound.

The beam creaked again, and I bit down on my lip hard to stop the gasp that threatened to escape. Please, please don’t find me.

“He’s not up there,” the man finally said, pulling back.

“Let’s go,” another one replied, sounding irritated. “We’ve wasted enough time.”

Footsteps retreated, and I waited, counting the seconds, willing myself to stay as quiet as possible. The door slammed shut behind them, and I stayed where I was, my body trembling uncontrollably.

It was over. For now.

I let out a shaky breath and slowly allowed my body to relax, the tension leaving my muscles in waves. But it didn’t feel like relief. Not really.

Mum. Dad. They were gone.

And I had no idea who those men were. Or why they had come. But one thing was clear:

They weren’t done.