remember it was the worst weather I’d ever seen. Skies the colour of blood. Thunder so loud you thought your eardrums would burst. Constant rain. The lighting was relentless and so destructive. I remember that Mamma had to keep comforting me, because I genuinely thought that the sky was going to collapse and kill us all.
The final night, we were huddled in the living room. The power had gone out. I was wrapped in a blanket which I carried everywhere with me. I loved it, because it smelled of them. I was sitting on the edge of the couch, stroking Papa’s hair. He was laying on it, writing in one of his journals that he’d converted into his own version of a HASEA handbook — the one you now own. He’d barely been getting any sleep at all. More bad dreams he’d told me, but he never told me what about.
I remember Mamma was sitting on the floor holding Papa’s free hand. None of us were talking, we were just happy in each other’s company.
Papa heard it first. Or sensed it, I’ll never know which. He jerked up almost knocking me off the armrest. He looked down at my Mother, who seemed confused for a moment and then…scared. The atmosphere frightened me. I asked what was wrong, but they wouldn’t answer me. I followed, dragging my blanket as they ran into the hallway. I watched my Papa open the small metal vent above the stairway. He pulled out a bag and ran back into the lounge with it. I followed him back in. He placed it on the table and pulled out all sorts of things I’d never seen. I know now that they were Alliance weapons. Mamma pulled away a small rug, which exposed a trapdoor I’d never even known existed.
They were acting frantically and it was scaring me so much I could barely breathe. I started to cry. Papa stopped and looked at me. I’ll never forget that face as long as I live.
He looked so sad.
Mamma…sorry this is so hard. No…it’s ok, I’m ok. Mama knelt down and hugged me so tightly it hurt. Father did the same. They both held me as if it were the last thing they would ever do. I was sniffing and hiccupping from being so scared and confused. Mamma shushed me and smoothed the back of my hair, the way she always did when I was upset.
I remember, she pointed at the trapdoor and said, ‘listen carefully mia bambina, you need to go down here and keep very, very quiet okay?’ I told them I didn’t want to. I–I didn’t want to be away from them. Then Papa said ‘please.’ Maybe it was the way he said it, or because of the look he’d given me before, but I agreed. They both hugged me one more time. Then they said their last words they would ever say to me. Mamma said ‘We love you with all our hearts.’ And Papa said ‘Always.’
They lowered me in and I pulled the blanket up to my face. There was a sort of rustling sound overhead and then darkness. The dirt below me was damp, from where the rain had found its way in through the cracks. I was sitting in a cold, smelly puddle. But I stayed completely still. Even though I was still only a human, I could tell something bad was coming. I could sense it.
I waited.
If God really existed and had any mercy, he would have made me deaf then. It started with the screeching of some horrific creature from outside. It sounded like a horse’s neigh mixed with nails on a blackboard. I know now that it was the sound of that poor soulless unicorn that that evil creature rides around on.
Then there were the heavy, slow footsteps. All I could think of was the giant from the Jack and the Beanstalk story Papa used to read to me. All sorts of thoughts ran through my head. Was the giant real? Had it come for us? Its footsteps were so powerful they made the mud jump up around me. I remember lumps of it flew up into my face and up my nose, making me choke. There were more frantic footsteps as my parents ran around the living room, doing god knows what. I had to resist the urge to call out to them.
The front door burst open and I heard Mamma shriek. The thunder was so loud, as if it had come right into the house. I could hear the rain beating down and the howl of the wind. Then there were the pounding footsteps of this thing coming closer.
I heard Papa’s voice. He was shouting above the roar of noise. He said that he knew it would come. That he knew it wasn’t just a dream. Mamma pleaded with it, saying they wanted nothing to do with the war and only wanted peace.
There was no answer to their words. I remember straining my ears above the noise to hear if the giant said anything. But there was only silence. Then I heard another sound like creaking hinges followed by another I didn’t know then, but know all too well now. The sound of a sword being unsheathed.
The final words my Mother ever said were “please don’t.”
Then there were gunshots. So…many…gunshots. Like a full scale war in our living room. I screamed then- I couldn’t help it. Luckily it was too loud for me to be heard. I stuffed the wet blanket into my mouth to stifle them.
The sound of gunfire was cut short by two sharp sounds. The first was followed by Mamma making a high pitched squeal. The second, even more disturbing was a sound like Papa being sick. Then nothing but the wind and rain.
I stayed there for a while, too scared to do anything. Then I felt dripping on my arms and forehead, more and more until it was all over me. At first I thought that the rain had seeped through into the lounge. But it was warm. I couldn’t move. So I stayed in the same position, blanket wrapped around me and this warm liquid pouring over me. After a minute or an hour — I couldn’t tell, the heavy booming footsteps started again. Somehow I regained control of body and managed to stand up. I nudged at the trap door and peered out.
I saw it. The Sorrow in full view. Not that I knew what it was then. It was standing in the hallway. So tall, most of its head was hidden by the doorframe. It was facing away, breathing slowly. I could hear these harsh rasping sounds as it breathed. It was wearing dark armour, covered in spikes and creepy symbols. It carried this colossal sword. It was covered in blood. I froze again. It was like staring at the embodiment of a nightmare. The image seared itself into my brain. I see it every single night and probably will until the day I die.
It spun around. It was unnaturally fast for its size. Somehow preservation kicked in and I ducked back into the hole. I waited for what seemed like eternity for it to open the trapdoor and pluck me out. But it didn’t. Luck was on my side. I heard its footsteps start again, first in the hallway and then splashing in the rain outside. Then I heard that horrific baying noise and thundering hooves.
Then nothing.
I pulled myself out of the trapdoor. It was then that I noticed my parents. They were lying together, Papa holding Mamma against him just like the way they did when they slept. But this time…they both had red slash marks on their chests, which were pulsing out blood…so much blood. The whole floor looked like it had been painted red. I looked down and realised so was I. Only then did I understand what the warm liquid was.
T-the…thing which broke my shock was Mamma’s hand. It was palm down on the carpet above the trapdoor. In her final moments, she’d tried to be as close to me as possible. Grief hit me. I–I actually remember the sensation; it felt like a rock crushing…crushing down on my chest. I–I couldn’t breathe. I crawled over to them and tried to wake them up…b-but they wouldn’t. It was no use…they were gone. So I pulled Mamma’s arms around me, closed my eyes…and willed myself to die.
30
Gabriella looked at me, eyes damp with tears.
“I… I miss them so much.”
Her face crumbled and ten years of repressed grief broke free. She buried her head into my shoulder and sobbed uncontrollably. Sounds of pure anguish escaped from somewhere deep within her, each one like a claw tearing at my insides. I wrapped my arms around her quivering body, ignoring the painful tremors that ran up my arms. I wished I could somehow take her pain away. Gabriella’s suffering felt far worse than any of the beatings I’d taken from Terry; more soul destroying than the thousands of acidic words that had dissolved my confidence. What made it even worse was that I’d forced her to remember. I caused this.
Tears blurred my vision. I tried to blink them away, but there were too many. Instead, I closed my eyes and leaned over, resting my cheek on the top of her head.
“It’s okay Ella, I’m here,” I soothed, rocking her gently backwards and forwards as she wept. My words were hollow, and I knew it. But no combination of words in the world could ever console the sort of ordeal
