HER KIND

Unexpected Visitor

'Chapter 8'

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The end of her shift marked Dria's return home. The twins were already fast asleep, the laundry sorted, thanks to Marcelo, and the dirty dishes neatly placed in the dishwasher, as per Elliam's compliance. She was making progress with her homework when an urgent knock at the front door disrupted her concentration.

At first, she dismissed it as her imagination, too engrossed in her schoolwork to pay it any heed. But the knocks persisted, growing more frantic and insistent. Irritation welled up within her, and exhaustion tugged at her bones.

With a begrudging sigh, she pushed herself away from her desk and trudged toward the door. The relentless pounding continued, fueling her annoyance.

"Calm the heck down, I'm coming!" she shouted at the door.

As she swung the door open, a blur of movement rushed past her, and before she knew it, the intruder had barged into her home and hastily shut the door behind them.

"What the heck do you think you're doing?" she exclaimed, her gaze fixed on the intruder sprawled on her floor with his back against the door.

He appeared not to hear her question, lost in his own thoughts or perhaps catching his breath. Time passed as she observed him, witnessing the way he collected himself, regulated his breathing, and ran a hand through his blond hair.

After a deep inhale, something seemed to click, and his eyes finally found hers. His brown eyes, reddened from what appeared to be tears, locked onto hers, and he sniffled before finally speaking.

"They're dead."

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Minutes had passed, perhaps even an hour, and Dria's cup of tea had grown cold. She couldn't shake off what he had uttered: "they're all dead." She had a sinking feeling about who he meant, and she desperately wished to be wrong, but the haunted look in his eyes suggested otherwise.

Her gaze remained fixed on him. He appeared to have regained some composure, his rapid breaths slowing, and the frantic anxiety in his eyes subsiding. Yet, his gaze continued to dart around the room, more frequently towards the door as if expecting an imminent intrusion. It unnerved her.

Amidst the heavy silence, he began to speak, his voice laden with the weight of what he had witnessed. "So much screaming, everyone was screaming at the same time. I could barely understand what was happening at the time, all I could hear was the screaming. The way it echoed throughout the house..." Dria couldn't turn her eyes away; she could only listen in rapt attention.

"It was supposed to be another Thursday night at the house. Mom would make her crapy lasagna, and my father would force us to like it, promising to buy pizza later. Tammy would roll her eyes, while I kicked her under the table. Normal... it was supposed to be normal, but... the minute my father walked into the house, looking so pale, I knew everything was going to change," he sighed, a soft sniffle escaping him.

He ran his hands through his already disheveled hair, and his red eyes locked onto Dria's. The intensity of his emotions was palpable, and she couldn't help but be drawn into his narrative. "But... I-I never thought... thought they would all be dead by dawn," he continued, his gaze drifting away from her as if he had just noticed the blood coating most of his clothes, hands, and cheek.

His hands trembled as he frantically attempted to rub away the blood. Dria could only imagine the terrifying images and emotions racing through his mind, but his heavy sobs snapped her out of her reverie. She rushed to his side and gently clasped his hand, causing him to look into her eyes.