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It was a crisp Tuesday in mid-November, the kind of fall day when the last leaves tumble down from the trees in golden waves. The quiet hum of cars drifted faintly from outside, a soft reminder of the world beyond our walls. I remember everything about that day—the warmth of my room, the way light spilled in through the window, and the outfit I'd chosen: a white T-shirt with a sparkly purple heart at the center and my favorite black shorts. My hair was pulled up high in a ponytail, like I'd seen my mom wear hers. I was six years old and in my own little world.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, I was deep in play with my favorite doll, Princess Dolly. She was a green fairy with shimmery wings, so bright that she practically glowed in the light. Green was my favorite color, and in my mind, Dolly's green wings made her truly magical.

There was a soft knock at my door, and I turned to see my mom standing there, smiling. She was dressed in a sharp business suit, looking elegant but somehow still warm. "Hey, honey," she greeted, stepping into the room.

"Hi, Mommy!" I beamed, hugging Dolly to my chest.

Her eyes fell on my doll, and she crouched down next to me. "Oh, I see you're playing with Princess Dolly," she said with a smile.

"Yeah! Wanna see her fly?" I asked, already getting up and preparing to show her.

"Oh, I'd love to see her fly," she replied, her face lighting up as she watched me.

I held Dolly up high and began running in a circle around my room, making the sound of rushing wind as I imagined her soaring through the air. My mom watched me with a look of such love in her eyes, I felt like I was really making Dolly fly.

"Wow, she's so beautiful when she flies," she murmured.

"It's the glitter on her wings," I explained, stopping to show her the sparkling green details. "That's what makes her fly pretty."

Mom took Dolly gently from my hands, holding her up to the light. "Or maybe," she said, her voice soft, "she's just as beautiful as someone else I know."

"Who?" I asked, puzzled.

She just smiled and tapped my nose. "This one right here," she whispered, her gaze soft and full of warmth.

Before I could answer, another knock came at the door. My dad was standing there, leaning casually against the frame with a grin.

"Dad!" I squealed, running over to throw my arms around him.

He swept me up in a tight hug. "Hey, Bug," he said, laughing as he ruffled my hair.

"Hello, dear," he said to my mom, crossing the room and gently tipping her chin up to kiss her.

"Ew!" I muttered, scrunching my nose in disgust, and they both burst into laughter.

"Oh, so you don't like Daddy kissing Mommy?" he teased, setting me back down.

"Kisses are gross," I insisted.

He raised his eyebrows playfully. "Only in Disney movies, right?"

I nodded. "Only princesses are allowed to get kissed," I clarified.

"Well, that's a rule," he chuckled. Then he looked down at me with a mischievous grin. "But you don't mind when Daddy attacks you with kisses!"

With that, he scooped me up again, pressing exaggerated, ticklish kisses all over my cheek. I squealed, squirming in his arms as my mom joined in, pressing a soft kiss to my other cheek.

"Stop!" I laughed breathlessly, wriggling free as we all dissolved into laughter.

Just then, the doorbell rang from downstairs.

My parents shared a quick look. "Are we expecting anyone?" my mom asked, frowning slightly.

My dad shook his head. "I don't think so," he replied, putting me back on my feet. "I'll get rid of whoever it is. Don't worry."

"Make it quick; dinner's in the oven," my mom said, crossing her arms with a playful smile.

"Wouldn't miss your cooking," he shot back with a wink, heading down the hallway.

My mom sighed, rolling her eyes but smiling, and then turned back to me. "Alright, Y/N, let's find you something nice to wear for dinner." She walked over to my closet, thumbing through the hangers. "How about a dress?"

"Can I wear my puppy dress?" I asked hopefully.

She laughed, shaking her head. "But you wore that last night, and you got spaghetti sauce all over it."

"Please?" I whispered, flashing her my best pleading eyes.

She pretended to think for a moment, then finally nodded. "Fine, but after dinner, we're washing it. Deal?"

"Thank you, Mommy!" I threw my arms around her as she pulled the dress from the closet.

She knelt down to help me take off my shirt, lifting it up as I raised my arms. But just as I was about to slip into my puppy dress, a loud, sharp noise cracked through the silence—a gunshot.

We both froze, the air around us still and heavy. I clutched her arm tightly, eyes wide, my heart pounding as we stared at the doorway where my dad had disappeared.

I stood there, frozen in place as my mom called out, her voice wavering. "Lyle?" she yelled, calling my dad's name, her voice filled with something raw and urgent. There was no answer. Only the heavy silence stretched through the house.

"Mommy?" I whispered, my voice tiny and lost.

She glanced at me, her eyes wide and terrified, but she tried to hide it with a quick, shaky smile. She moved toward the door, each step hesitant, and then gently cracked it open, leaning her head out to look down the hall. I clutched my puppy dress tighter against me, my stomach twisting as I waited.

And then, all at once, she gasped—a sharp, broken sound—and her hand shot up to her mouth. She stumbled back, her face crumpling as she took in whatever she had seen. "Oh no. No, no," she whispered, and before I could say anything, she took off down the hallway, her heels echoing through the house as she ran.

"Lyle! No, Lyle!" she screamed, my dad's name echoing through the walls.

I stood there, my hands shaking, listening to her voice break into sobs. "Mommy? Are you okay?" I called out, but my voice felt too small, swallowed up by the empty house.

A second later, I heard her footsteps, fast and frantic, coming back toward me. She appeared in my doorway, her face streaked with tears, eyes frantic. She grabbed me, scooping me up in her arms, holding me so tightly it almost hurt. Without a word, she carried me across the room and set me down gently in my closet, her hands clutching my shoulders as she knelt beside me.

"Mommy, what's happening?" I asked, my heart pounding. I glanced at her hands—they were stained with something dark, something that glistened red in the dim light.

She followed my gaze, her eyes widening, and tried to wipe her hands against her skirt, but it only smeared. "Y/N, baby, listen to me. I need you to stay right here, okay? No matter what you hear, no matter how long it takes, you don't come out of this closet until you hear me call for you. Do you understand?"

I was shaking, clutching her jacket. "But I'm scared, Mommy. I don't want you to go," I whispered, my voice breaking.

She paused, her face softening, her eyes shining as she reached out and brushed a tear from my cheek. "I know, sweetheart. I know. I don't want to go either, but I have to help Daddy. I'll be right back. I promise."

"No, Mommy," I begged, clutching her hand with everything I had. "Please don't leave me alone. Please, I want to stay with you."

Her face twisted with pain, her eyes welling up as she looked at me like she didn't know how to leave. After a second, she took a shaky breath and forced herself to pull back. She looked around the room, grabbing something off the floor, then knelt down and pressed it into my hands.

It was Princess Dolly.

"Here," she whispered, smoothing my hair and trying to smile, though it trembled. "Dolly will stay with you. Remember? She's a fairy, and she's strong. Remember the story where she stood up to those trolls trying to take over Fairyland?" Her voice was shaking, but she nodded, trying to be brave. "She'll keep you safe. Just hold onto her and wait here for Mommy, okay?"

I nodded, my chest tight, tears streaming down my face. "Okay, Mommy," I whispered, clutching Dolly close. "I'll wait."

She cupped my face, her thumb brushing softly against my cheek, her own tears spilling over as she looked at me like she was trying to remember every little detail, every part of me. She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to my forehead, and held it there, whispering something too soft for me to hear.

Finally, she pulled back and stood up, her fingers trembling as she closed the closet door. Darkness wrapped around me, and I sat there hugging Dolly, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst.

I listened as her heels clicked down the hall, each step fainter than the last, until there was nothing left but silence.

And in that silence, for the first time, I realized how alone I really was.

I sat there, clutching Princess Dolly so tightly her little green wings bent under my grip. The closet was dark and quiet, the only sound was my shaky breathing. I tried to listen for my mom, hoping to hear her voice, hoping she'd call out to tell me everything was okay.

But then, a gunshot cracked through the silence, loud and close. I jumped, my heart racing so hard it hurt, and I pressed myself back against the closet wall, hugging Dolly tighter. For a moment, everything was silent again—until I heard my mom scream.

"No! Get away from me!" Her voice was sharp with terror, a sound I'd never heard from her before. It made me shiver, like the air had gone cold.

There was a crash, the sound of glass shattering somewhere down the hall, and I flinched, curling into a tighter ball, squeezing my eyes shut. I could hear her footsteps, frantic, stumbling, like she was trying to get away.

"No!" she cried, her voice breaking, filled with a fear so raw it made my stomach twist. "Please, just leave me alone!"

Then her voice turned to pleading. "No! No, please—"

Another gunshot shattered the air, louder and sharper than the first, cutting her off mid-sentence.

I jumped, my whole body trembling as a new wave of tears rolled down my cheeks. I wanted to scream, to call out for her, but I couldn't make a sound. I sat there in the dark, holding Dolly so tightly I could feel the plastic digging into my fingers . I waited, straining to hear my mom's voice, hoping, praying she'd say something—anything.

But there was only silence. An awful, heavy silence that felt colder than any winter night. And in that silence, I felt truly, completely alone.

I sat there in the dark, barely breathing, my body shaking as I clutched Dolly to my chest. The silence was thick and heavy, broken only by the slow, deliberate sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. Each step made my heart pound louder in my ears. Through the narrow crack in the closet door, I caught a glimpse of someone's shoes, dark leather dress shoes, like the ones Dad wore to work.

The footsteps came closer, pausing just outside my bedroom door. I held my breath, too scared to even blink. Through the crack, I saw part of a figure—a pair of dress pants, a suit jacket. A man, just standing there, as if listening, waiting.

I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could make myself invisible, pressing my back into the closet wall. I didn't move, didn't make a sound. After what felt like forever, the figure slowly turned, his footsteps retreating down the hall. I listened, my whole body tense, until I couldn't hear them anymore. And then, finally, the house fell quiet.

I waited, counting each shaky breath, my mother's words echoing in my mind: "Stay here until I call for you." But she hadn't called, and I was so scared. What if she needed me?

Slowly, I reached for the closet door, my hand trembling as I pushed it open. My room looked the same, like everything was frozen in time. The stuffed animals on my bed, the clothes on the floor, the picture frames on my dresser—it all looked so ordinary. But the house felt different, like it was holding its breath. I tiptoed toward my bedroom door, every step slow, each creak of the floorboards making me flinch.

I peeked into the hallway. Shards of glass lay scattered across the floor, glinting in the dim light. One of the picture frames had fallen from the wall, the photo inside cracked and torn, showing my family—the three of us laughing together at the beach. I stepped carefully around the broken glass, my heart racing as I moved toward the stairs.

"Mom?" I whispered, my voice small and scared.

At the top of the stairs, I looked down, my eyes widening as I saw a dark, spreading stain on the carpet, smears of red trailing across the floor. My stomach twisted as I took each step, the silence pressing down on me, almost suffocating.

"Dad?" I called out, barely above a whisper.

The front door was open, swinging slightly in the wind, letting in a cold draft that made me shiver. The furniture in the living room was knocked over, the coffee table tipped on its side, the lamp shattered on the floor. I took another step forward, and that's when I saw it—just behind the couch, a pair of legs sticking out, unmoving.

"Daddy?" I whispered, my voice trembling. My steps felt heavy as I moved closer, inch by inch, until I could see him fully. He lay there, eyes open and staring at nothing, a pool of blood surrounding him. His face looked different, distant, like he wasn't really there.

I stumbled back, my chest tight, a strangled sob escaping as I turned away. My legs felt like they might give out, but I kept moving, almost stumbling over something on the floor. I looked down—and saw her.

"Mommy," I breathed, my voice breaking as I dropped to my knees beside her. She lay there, her face pale, her clothes soaked in blood, her eyes closed. I reached out, shaking her shoulder, my hands trembling as they smeared red across her shirt.

"Mommy, please wake up!" I cried, my voice desperate, thick with tears. "Mommy, please... please, just get up." I shook her harder, clinging to her arm as tears blurred my vision. "Daddy!" I choked out, turning to look at him, but he was still, so still, and I knew he wouldn't answer.

My heart shattered as I looked down at her, my mother who had held me, laughed with me, kissed me goodnight. "Please, Mommy..." My voice was a soft, broken whisper as I clutched her hand, feeling how cold she was, how far away she felt even though she was right there.

I sank down beside her, pressing my head against her chest, even though I knew I wouldn't hear her heartbeat. I was crying so hard I could barely breathe, my hands still clutching Dolly, who had done nothing to protect me from this, from the emptiness swallowing me whole. All the warmth, all the laughter, all the safety of our home had vanished, leaving only this silent, terrible darkness.

I stayed there, curled up beside her, listening to the hollow echo of my own sobs in the empty room, wishing with everything I had that I could wake up from this nightmare and feel her arms around me one more time. But there was only silence, and I knew—no one was coming. I was truly, utterly alone.

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WORDS WRITTEN:
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