“Hurry. Open the door.” I pounded on the door, my fists aching.
The sound of footsteps grew closer. He was coming. I leaned against the fiberglass door. Screaming, as I collapsed onto the porch. Alone.
Death. Calling my name, as those large shoes stormed down the streets. Lightning struck. Rain battered, soaking my hair.
He fired his gun. The masked figure was getting closer. I hammered on the door. Whimpering.
It opened, and I scrambled inside. The door closed. Locked. I sunk to the ground, gasping for a breath of air.
I breathed. In and out. Listening to the silence, I knew he was outside. Waiting. Waiting for the chance to shoot.
The ground was smooth. Comforting. I stared at the pink slippers. They lead to an old lady. She looked back at me through her round glasses.
“D-don’t do outside. He’s there. Gun.” Shaking, I pointed towards the door.
She raised her eyebrow. Grey, almost white. Just like her thin hair, pinned into a bun. The old lady dragged a potted plant. Right in front of the door.
I placed a hand over my heart, listening to the rapid beat. He fired a gunshot. The old lady covered her ears.
My heart raced. Thumping, as I backed into the corner. We waited in silence. For minutes, nothing. He’d gone. Or it was a trick, waiting, gun in hand. Ready to shoot us the second we opened the door.
A sound came. From the living room. I exchanged glances with the old lady. He’s here, I mouthed, hide.
She pointed towards a door. We scampered inside. Into a closet, full of dust. The earthy smell of the elderly filled my nose. I didn’t complain.
I listened, heart pounding, as his footsteps walked down the corridor. Towards the room. I prayed. Pleaded those gloved hands wouldn’t open the door.
The doorknob twisted. I listened, as the door creaked. The air was silent. Empty, with an uneasy feeling. He stood outside. Pacing around the room.
Through the cracks of the closet, I stared at the gun in his hand. He walked towards us.
It was the end. I gasped, wheezing. Not me. I was still a child. Young, stupid, innocent. He stood, close to the doors. His heavy breathing, filling my ears. Clasping my hands together, I waited.
The door swung open. Glancing up at his large body, head-to-toe in black, I trembled. He aimed his gun towards the old lady.
I gasped for another breath of air, as he grabbed her. Gripping her frail wrist. An act of kindness, taken away by misfortune.
He held the gun up to the old lady’s head. She started to shake. Through his mask, I glared at his eyes. Narrow. Dark brown.
As he pulled the trigger, I froze. The old lady glanced down at me. “Run.”
I scrambled up from the floor. Covering my ears, I ran. Lightning stuck, as I reached the streets. Thunder growled. Grey clouds covered the evening sky.
Heart thumping, I reached another house. Far from the old lady’s. Small and grey, with lights turned on. I pounded on the door.
“Hurry. Open up.”
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