Chapter two
1379 Words
Mira Pov
I didn’t even think twice after hanging up.
I just grabbed my stuff and left.
Kelly called after me, but I didn’t stop to explain anything properly. I think I just waved my hand or something because I was already halfway out the door before my brain caught up with what was happening.
Grandma doesn’t sound like that.
That was the only thing repeating in my head as I walked fast down the street.
Not scared. Not upset. Not even stressed.
Terrified.
And if you know my grandma, you’d understand why that was a problem. That woman once chased a dog twice her size out of our yard with a broom and insulted it the entire time. So yeah, hearing her voice shake like that was not normal at all.
I kept trying her number as I walked.
It rang once, twice, then nothing.
Voicemail again.
“Come on,” I muttered, more annoyed now than anything else.
“Pick up your phone.”
I tried again.
Same thing.
By the time I got to the main road, I was walking faster than I meant to. My bag was bouncing against my side and I kept switching it from one hand to the other because it was starting to hurt.
The town looked normal, which honestly made everything worse. Cars passing, lights on, people doing their own thing like nothing weird was happening in the world.
Meanwhile, my grandma had just called, sounding like she was about to die.
So yeah, I wasn’t really in the mood for normal life right now.
Halfway home, I slowed down without meaning to.
I don’t know why.
Something just felt off.
Not like someone was chasing me or anything dramatic like that. More like the world was quieter than it should’ve been. Even the usual noise from shops and houses felt muted, like someone turned the volume down without telling anyone.
I shook my head a bit.
Maybe I was just overthinking it.
I kept walking.
The closer I got to our street, the more my stomach started doing that annoying tightening thing it does when you already know bad news is waiting, but you’re still pretending it’s not.
When I finally turned the corner and saw our house, I actually stopped.
That’s when the feeling in my chest just dropped.
The door was open.
Not fully open, just slightly.
Like someone went inside and forgot how doors work.
Which immediately made no sense because Grandma is the type of person that checks locks even after locking them.
I stood there for a second just staring.
“Okay,” I said out loud to myself, because apparently that helps in situations like this. “Maybe she went out.”
But I already knew that wasn’t true.
The porch looked… disturbed.
One of the flower pots was on its side. Dirt spilled like someone kicked it without caring. The mat wasn’t straight either, and that alone was weird because Grandma fixes that thing like it’s part of her personality.
I climbed the steps slowly.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
The door was still open when I reached it.
I pushed it gently.
“Grandma?”
No answer.
Of course, no answer.
The house felt too still inside, like even the air was waiting for something.
I stepped in and immediately noticed the smell.
Metallic.
Sharp.
I frowned a little because my brain was trying to avoid the obvious thought forming in my head.
“No,” I whispered under my breath, like saying it would cancel it out.
I dropped my bag by the door without thinking and moved further inside.
The living room was kind of messy, but not in a normal “Grandma was cleaning and stopped halfway” way. More like something had been moved around too quickly. Chair slightly turned, frame on the floor, stuff just… not where it should be.
My heart started beating faster, and I honestly didn’t like that at all.
“Grandma?” I called again, louder this time.
Still nothing.
I walked carefully, watching my steps like the floor might suddenly do something crazy.
Then I saw the broken glass near the hallway.
That made me stop properly.
Because now it wasn’t just “something feels off.”
Now it was “something actually happened here.”
I followed the glass slowly, my throat tightening more with every step I took.
And I don’t know how to explain it, but I already knew before I even saw her.
I just knew.
She was near the fireplace. Sitting in a way that didn’t make sense, like her body had tried to stay upright and simply… failed. For a second, I didn’t move.
Not because I was thinking.
Because my brain refused to accept what I was seeing.
Then I did.
“Grandma…”
My voice came out smaller than I meant it to.
I crossed the room too fast, almost stumbling as I dropped beside her.
“Hey—hey, it’s me,” I said quickly, like urgency could fix something already broken. “What happened? Talk to me.”
Up close, everything shifted into focus in a way I didn’t want it to.
Her skin wasn’t just pale—it looked drained, like all the warmth had been pulled out of her in stages. Her head was slightly tilted against the wall, chin dipped forward as if even holding it up had become too heavy. Her breathing came in uneven pulls, shallow and strained, each one catching faintly at the end like it hurt to complete it.
And then the smell hit me properly.
Metallic. Sharp. Wrong.
My stomach tightened before my mind even caught up.
I forced my eyes at her again, slower this time, like if I moved carefully enough I could change what I was seeing.
There was blood.
Not pooling. Not everywhere. That would have been easier to understand.
It was worse in a quieter way.
A dark smear along the side of her blouse, near her ribs, already soaking into the fabric as if it had been there long enough to stop being fresh but not long enough to feel distant. Another thinner line at her temple, partly hidden by the loose strands of her hair—like she had struck something when she fell, or been struck while trying to turn away.
My breath caught so hard it hurt.
“Grandma…” I whispered again, but this time it didn’t sound like a question.
Her eyes shifted slightly when she heard me.
“Mira…” she breathed.
I grabbed her hand immediately.
“I’m here. I’m here, okay? Just tell me what happened.”
Her fingers tightened around mine—weak but intentional, like she was trying to make sure I stayed.
And then I felt something cold slip into my palm.
I looked down.
A necklace.
Old silver.
Not mine.
“What is this?” I asked, confused, shaking slightly now.
Her lips moved again, slower this time.
“Don’t…” she started.
“Don’t what? Just tell me,” I pressed, leaning closer.
Her eyes flicked toward the window.
That single movement made my stomach tighten. Outside again, she was listening to something I couldn’t hear.
“The wolves found you,” she said.
I froze.
Because it didn’t make sense.
None of it did.
“Grandma… what are you talking about?”
Her grip tightened slightly again.
Not strength.
Warning.
Then her voice broke through one last time.
“Run.”
That word hit differently.
Not like a suggestion.
Like a warning, she was forced out of her last strength.
“Run where?” I asked quickly. “Just tell me what’s going on.”
But she wasn’t really looking at me anymore.
Her eyes were somewhere else now.
Like she was listening to something I couldn’t hear.
And then she said it again, softer this time.
“They’re here.”
That’s when something outside the house shifted.
.
Like footsteps on the porch.
Heavy ones.
I froze.
My hand is still holding hers.
And for the first time, I didn’t ask another question.
I just stayed there, staring at the door, waiting for whatever was about to come through it.
- Writer
