Ruby & The Rose (lesbian stories)

Chapter 5

5

It’s hot. So hot. In the darkness I can’t see a thing. I can feel the twins’ breath on my face, fast and scared. I try to regulate my own breathing¸ try to feel brave, try to make them feel brave. It’s not working. Through the cupboard door comes a crash, the front door smashing into the hall. Gertie gives a squeak. Oh please be quiet.

There are yells, two men’s voices I don’t recognise. They’re here. Franz and Claudia begging for help. Screaming, pleading. Two gunshots. Loud. They cut through the air; needles into pimples. It’s over before it’s begun.

“A-are they…?” Heidi whispers.

“Yes,” I reply, so quietly that the sound barely tinges the air. There are tears rolling slowly down my own cheeks. Gertie begins to sniffle. Then blub. Then wail. I try desperately to shush her. They can’t hear! They can’t!

Footsteps. Loud. Oh god. Oh god. Shush, Gertie please. Be quiet. Oh god.

The handle rattles. The locked door doesn’t budge. I pull the twins close to me, plant kisses into their blonde curls. I pray that it’s not real. Just a nightmare. Just a nightmare.

The light is sudden and blinding. Wood splinters onto our shoulders.

“Well, well, well,” says a voice above us, in a sinister tone. I look up, still cradling the girls.

“Leave us,” I beg. “Please leave us. You’re not meant to take the kids.”

The man gives a laugh. It sounds like marbles rolling around the bottom of a glass jar. “Sure,” he says. “But, you know, mistakes are bound to be made. I mean, did you hear about that family in Yorkshire? Three generations slaughtered. Terrible tragedy, wasn’t it Phil?”

The second man, standing at his shoulder, nods solemnly. “Appalling, Terry. It truly was.”

Before I know it, Gertie and Heidi are wrenched from my arms. The soldiers’ dirty fists are clenched around their pale forearms. The girls cry louder and harder. The bodies of their parents lie just a few feet away, swimming in a pool of blood, eyes wide and unmoving. I can’t stop the men pulling their triggers. I can’t tug the girls away in time. All I can do is watch, as two more shots ring out, and bullets embed themselves in young flesh. I watch, struck dumb, as their terrified eyes widen, and they each cry out.

I want to hold them both, as the life slowly drains out, so they won’t be alone. But all I can do is run. I catch my hair in the cobwebs as I hurry out from beneath the stairs. I twist my ankle as I stand upon legs numb from pins-and-needles. But I run. Up the stairs, not tripping on the loose edge of carpet. Across the landing. Into Franz and Claudia’s bedroom. I hear more gunshots. Dozens. Like a litter of mice exploding in a microwave. The window is already open. I climb out, clutching onto the sill. The air is cool, but I feel hot. So hot. The heat burns my insides. My heart pounds. It’s a foot drop to the porch roof. I make it easily. The next few feet to the ground are a little shaky. I land on my feet but tumble. My hands and knees graze. I don’t stop. More gunshots- now from the window. I dodge them all. One hits a flowerpot, another the bicycle propped up against the shed. But none hit me. I leap over the garden gate, loose on its hinges. And I run. I run. I run. There are knives tearing down my throat with each heaving breath. The wind stings my eyes. My long dark hair flies about and whips my face. I don’t stop. Not for miles. My legs feel like they’re about to collapse under me but they don’t. Sometimes I look down, and see the scarlet blood splatters on my hands and sleeves. I don’t think about it. I begin to build a wall. Brick by brick. Blocking it out. Those splatters? Just ketchup. Yes, that’s it. Ketchup. I run. I run.