Promises - 01
Serafina
The rain battered the tin roof like a spray of bullets—cold, relentless, merciless. By now, my mother should have been home. 11 PM on the dot. Not a minute earlier, not a second later. That was her routine, as precise as clockwork. But tonight was different.
I paced the living room, my pulse ticking like a metronome, every second stretching too long. She had never been late. Not once. And for the first time, I let the question slip past the edge of my mind, sharp and uneasy.
What does she really do at night?
Because whatever it was—something had gone wrong.
“Someone could’ve kidnapped her, or hurt her” I mutter to myself thinking of what to do. She has trained me, and taught me all there is to know about life but why is it that I cannot think without her. That I cannot function without her commands. Suddenly the door creaks open, my head whips to the noise, my fingers lingering where my dagger hides. I approach the door expecting the worse, when my mothers face comes into view.
“MUM!” I groan, loosening my grip. My demanour completely changing as I relax. She cocks her eyebrow in my direction, a smile playing at her lips.
“What’s got your knickers in a bunch?” She smirks hauling her work bag over her shoulder. I look at her, relief flowing over me.
“I just.. I just thought something was off” I mutter, glad to see it was all in my head. She looks at me and cups my cheek.
“I promise everthing was okay, something just came up but I handled it. And that’s all you need to know” She states, a reassuring smile plastered on her face.
“Come, Ina. Go get some rest,” she says, gently ushering me inside.
The screen door swings shut behind me—and then it happens.
Tires screech against the pavement, a brutal sound slicing through the quiet night. An engine growls, roaring down our street like a beast unleashed. Then—gunfire. Bullets tear through the air, shattering the night, shattering everything.
Before I can react, my mother shoves me aside—hard. I hit the ground just as she takes the bullets meant for me, her body jerking with every shot.
My mother collapses beside me, her breath ragged, her body still.
And just like that—everything goes silent.
My breath hitched in my throat as I crouched behind the old wooden counter, my mothers body sprawled across the kitchen floor, blood pooling near the fridge. The house smelled like gunpowder and iron—metallic, sharp, suffocating.
I should have screamed. Should have cried. But I learned long ago that emotions wouldn’t save you.Running would.
My mother’s voice echoed in my head.“If something happens, take the box run to Gino’s. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, my pulse pounding in my ears. The front door was open, swinging lazily in the wind. They were still out there. Hunting.
So I took the box and I bolted.
The storm had cracked open the sky, and the rain hit me like a slap as I tore through the street barefoot, my thin T-shirt already drenched and clinging to my skin. My heartbeat matched my footsteps—fast, frantic, uneven. Water splashed up my legs as I sprinted through puddles, but I didn’t care. I didn’t feel the cold, didn’t feel the ache in my side from where she’d slammed into the counter trying to get away.
I felt fear.
Headlights flashed as a car turned the corner. I ducked into an alley, pressing myself against the rough brick wall, my breath coming in sharp gasps. The car slowed. A black sedan. The same one parked outside my house earlier.
Shit.
I clenched her teeth, forced myself to move. Left. Right. Cut through the old parking lot. Over the fence. My fingers slipped against the wet metal, but I pulled myself up, swung my legs over, and dropped onto the other side. Hitting the ground hard, but it does not falter me.
Almost there.
Gino’s Pizza glowed in the distance, the red neon sign flickering from the storm. A sanctuary in the middle of the chaos. The smell of garlic and baked dough drifted through the air as I shoved through the door, the bell overhead ringing violently.
Gino turned from behind the counter, a grease-stained rag in his hands, his thick brows furrowing as he took me in—soaked, shaking, eyes wild with something between terror and rage.
“Jesus, kid—”
“They shot her,” I choked out, my voice sharp and uneven, my body finally realizing it had stopped moving. Gino’s expression changed instantly. Recognition. Fear. Understanding.
He dropped the rag.
“Get in the back. Now.”
The door slammed shut behind me. The storm raged on outside.
And there I knew—my old life had just ended.
