The world vs us

Chapter three ~ if anything happens

The wail rattles my insides. It slithers along my sleeping bones and churns my organs with malice. I sit up. We're being raided. I know instantly, the screams tell a story no words ever could. Helpless cries burn into my room. Children screaming, mothers crying. I pinch myself hard on my right forearm until a pinkish mark appears. I look down at the mark imprinted on my skin and furrow my brows helplessly. No no no. It has to be a dream. This was never going to happen. This was a distant nightmare we're living away from. Expect now it isn't a nightmare, it's reality. The sickly landing light spills into my inky room as mum opens the door, sleep still moulded on her distressed face. "We need to go. Now". Although I know what's going on, those 5 words make my heart sink into my feet. Like on a rollercoaster, but this time a rollercoaster of utter horror and danger. The squealing raid alarm pushes through my window, filling the room with its suffocating buzz. "Come on Elora. They've come to get us, they're here" mum croaks, tears gently spilling from her eyes. It's an odd thing, watching your mother cry. Sometimes you forget they have emotions, their face of steal never lets any emotion other than happiness spill out. "Alright". I'm not sure how my voice sounds so calm, as the horrific rollercoaster is still zooming along its track. Mum puts out a hand and I grab it. Her palms are sweaty, I can almost feel the fear radiating off of her. As we approach the stairs, I see dad at the bottom, a look of terror struck across his face. I only then realise a dark shade is painted subconsciously across mine too. "Elora, Jill, I hate to be like this but if anything happens I love you both so much"
I'm unable to say anything. Both sadness and fear are suffocating me. Dad's words stung like 1000 darts hitting all at once. If anything happens...? I feel the hot tears spill from my eyes and trickle down my cheeks. Why was this all happening so quickly? A painful scream from outside ricochets through me, rattling my bones and filling my head with images of broken windows and fire. Dad purses his lips into a thin line. I know we have to go out but I can't. Back in the bakery, when I told killian to shut up, I thought my feet were glued to the floor. Now I know they weren't. Or maybe they were, but with a flimsy PVA type of glue. The glue holding me down now was a thick muddy gorilla glue. "Now, Elora" dads words pull me from my thoughts, "down by primrose street there's a car. A 2008 Ford Focus, silver. Take this bag of food and money to it and wait for your mother and I in the footwell." Dad hands me the bag. I open my mouth but nothing comes out. I cant do this. I cant ask for ketchup in a restaurant by myself.
"Dad I cant-"
"Please Elora. This is our only chance of getting out of here."
The desperation in Dad's voice is heartbreaking, a guard being let down and I can finally see the delicate man behind the wall. They are relying on me. I nod weakly and try a smile. The tension rises and falls at the same time, and I'm stuck with a stupid decision and a bag of food. Mum pulls me into a hug and Dad joins. "We love you so much. Be careful, gummy bear".

I open the door . The orange glow of fire oozes into me and throbs with desire. The screams get louder and smoke fills my lungs. People are running desperately for their lives, a black cloud of fear is low and hanging over everyone. We are trapped within its walls and being eaten alive by its malice. Fire swallows the cottages and shops I've always took for granted. Smoke swirls the air I wish was clean again. Monsters in navy clawing at my home that I wish would come back. Broken glass and scattered possessions lie helpless of the floor, trampled by those fleeing. The village I used to call home, disintegrating before me. I begin to run. Not the kind of run you play stuck in the mud with, or the one to get to your favourite store. The kind of run were you know if you stop, you'll die. You know if you don't run with everything you've got it will be the last thing you ever do. I weave through people, bag in hand, and make my way to primrose street. My breath is jagged and my heart is pounding, I can feel the blood pulsating through my whole body. A loud, desperate yell pulls me back. I glance over my shoulder and see a man braking down among the abis of chaos, clutching a small lifeless body in his arms, what looks to be his daughter. Her knotted hair brushes against the floor as he cry's into her. My legs don't stop running as I watch the man with sorrow. His crouched figure becomes smaller as I run further away, my eyes still fixed upon him from over my shoulder. A hard, sturdy surface hits my body. My legs stop running as i fall toward the ground. My eyes close from both the pain and shock. I feel the cold ground begin to eat at my aching body. I want nothing more then to be in my bed, safe, warm, happy. When I open my eyes, I see a pair of large shiny shoes standing about 5cm from my face. My eyes follow the figure up, until I spot the navy uniform. A Socovian solider is standing tall, glaring down at me as if I'm a piece of dirt. I examine his face of stone. Not a single word of emotion is written across it. I inhale slowly, unsure of what will happen next. Fear is slowly rising in me, my whole body becoming intoxicated by it. His firm hand roughly grabs onto my shoulder and pulls me up forcefully. My shaking legs can barely hold myself up as I drown in worry. Dads bag is still clutched in my right hand, my fingers thumbling with the handle nervously. The soldier removes his hand from my shoulder and casts it onto my wrist. I let go of the bag instinctively, and try to pry his hand away with my free one. He begins to walk, dragging me behind him. My attempt to pry has now become frantic punching and scratching at his hand, as I'm pulled away. A scream leaves my body. A desperate, helpless scream. A cry out from deep within me, a flaming desire to live that I'd never realised was there. The soldier's grip tightens and Im pulled across the street among chaos. People are too busy running desperately to notice me. To notice me being stolen from my home. All except one.

I feel a pair of hands grab me by the waist. The soldier's grip loosens around my wrist until it's no longer clasped around me. I feel my head begin to spin. An intense thumping noice fills my conscience, smoke fills my sight. I feel as if I'm falling, to nowhere in particular. I can vaguely feel a gentle pair of hands wrap around me and pull me close. the air brushes against my cheeks and my body bumps slightly. It feels as though someone's running with me. I try to open my eyes to see who, but it feels like they're being weighed down by elephants. I manage to slightly crack them open and look at the world. It's distorted and grey, I can hardly make anything out. My head begins to pound harder and I feel as though I'm going to pass out. I force my eyes to focus on the face above me. Killian?