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I try to push Matty off me, and I feel the heat of his breath on my cheek. I think he’s speaking words of reassurance or warning, but again, I can’t hear.
My entire body shakes, and then, just like that, it’s over. The abrupt silence is eerie, heavy with the weight of unspoken danger.
Matty eases up a little. Every nerve in my body screams, and every muscle is tense, ready for what comes next. The room feels like a battleground, and the remnants of shattered peace lie around us.
“Oh my goodness, Matty,” I choke out, barely taking a breath between words. My vocal cords struggle to work properly, and the smell of earth and iron fill the air—blood.
Milo’s scream and Lyric’s yell of, “Not on my watch,” echo around us.
Matty rolls off me. “How are you? Can you move?”
“Are you okay?” I roll over onto my back, my hands shaking as I stare at the ceiling. “Milo? Lyric?”
“I’m good. Just got some glass in my back.” He pulls glass out of his arm and tosses to the ground.
Desmond moves around us, and I hear more scuffling feet and talking from the kitchen. I vaguely hear the TV turn on and the couch cushion shift as Desmond sits down.
Matty remains beside me on the floor, dragging me up to sit, his hand wrapping around my forearm tightly, almost cutting off circulation.
We don’t speak, we just listen.
I blink a few times, trying to adjust to the view before me. Milo is curled up in a ball with his arms wrapped around his body, rocking slightly on a cushion. His eyes are wide from fear, and he’s crying. Desmond pulls him into his lap, hugging him close, whispering softly into his ear as Matty helps me up.
The air is thick with the scent of fear, and the taste of dread lingers in my mouth. I struggle to process the abrupt violence that shattered our fragile peace, leaving us all in its wake, bruised, shaken, and forever changed.
Lyric isn’t anywhere.
I blink past the dust and debris, my heart pounding in my chest as my eyes focus on the glass shards littering my living room. The cushions under the shattered window are full of glass, and the curtains blow in the cold November wind.
“The fuck?” I mutter, disbelief and anxiety intertwining in my mind.
Matty gently pulls me forward, hugging me into him. “Shh. Are you okay? Can you move?” He pushes me back to inspect my body. “Deep breath.”
“I-I’m all right.” My trembling body makes it hard to speak, but I choke out the words. I hug myself tightly, trying to calm down until Matty grabs my arms and wraps them around him in a tight embrace. Chills run from the base of my neck all the way up to my scalp and down my arms as goose bumps cover my skin.
The ominous silence presses down on us. We strain our senses, trying hard to see if we can make out any movement outside, looking for any shadow worth worrying about. The sense of vulnerability in the face of the unknown hangs heavily in the air.
Stillness settles around us, save for the disconcerting creaks and groans of the old house settling into the tension that has filled the air. The icy breeze from the shattered window cuts through the room like a knife, causing me to shiver uncontrollably.
Matty’s grip on me tightens, a silent reassurance that we’re in this together. We share a wordless understanding, an unspoken promise to protect each other and find Lyric.
Desmond remains vigilant, his eyes scanning the room and the broken window. He’s our protector, the one who’s always a step ahead in our chaotic world. His grip on Milo is unwavering, providing the young boy a sense of security amid the chaos.
My eyes slowly adjust to the dim lighting as I peer outside. The night is inky black, concealing any potential threat. It’s as if the darkness itself is an accomplice to the unseen danger lurking in the shadows.
“What the hell just happened?” I finally articulate my thoughts, the words emerging in a hushed whisper. I feel like a sitting duck in this room, and my skin itches with the need to move.
Matty keeps his voice low as if speaking louder might invite more danger. “I don’t know, but we need to find Lyric.”
Desmond nods in agreement, his expression grave. “Stay here with Milo. We’re going to check outside and make sure it’s safe.”
I nod, my heart heavy with worry. Desmond and Matty move cautiously, their actions measured and deliberate. They make their way to the broken window, their figures outlined against the pale moonlight filtering through the curtains.
As they step outside, the cold night air rushes in, chilling me to the bone.
Minutes stretch into an eternity as I wait, the silence unbearable. My thoughts are a chaotic jumble, and my imagination runs wild with terrifying scenarios of what might have happened to Lyric.
Finally, the front door creaks open, and Desmond and Matty return, their expressions grim. They shake their heads, indicating they found no trace of Lyric outside.
