Quiet

Two hours passed.

He opened his eyes and realized the light wasn't as bright. It was bronze and half the closet was now dark. He rose warily to his feet and listened.

Silence.

No more screams.

No more commotion.

No more noises.

He pushed open the door with his small hands.

Everything was a mess. Anything wood was demolished into nothing but splinters, while everything of metal was cracked or melted. All glass was shattered and set in sprayed pattern across the floor. He glanced over at the door. It was in pieces, not even its hinges remained. He realized the doorframe wasn't even there, just a jagged hole where something tore through. That's when he realized an unnatural color. The shaggy beige carpet was soaked in it...it looked black. But on the wall it was red.

Weren't the walls brown?

He saw it. The sources.

His father was lying acids the bed (broken in half) on his back, his arms splayed out, legs too, in unnatural angles. His eyes were closed, his usually neatly combed hair, now crazy and stocking up matted with same sticky red liquid that stained the rest of the room. Blood. He knew it was no use, but he reached out anyways and shook his father's leg. "Papa." His voice broke. "Papa, get up." Still no movement - a large red spot, looking black in the very center of his shirt, underneath his ribs, had grown across his shirt growing lighter to red before it seemed to just stop. He was dead. His father was dead. He turned and glanced around the room, before freezing, tears falling now. Two legs were able to be glimpsed from his position. His mother...she was lying on the other side of the bed, closest to the door.

He began walking over to the bed, everything seeming to slow; her words flowing through his mind with each heavy step he took. The sirens, he had failed to hear when he woke, were now growing louder.

Everything will be okay.

He noticed the sky was pass the afternoon, now bronze with various hues of orange and yellow.

Her sad but loving smile flashed in front of him.

His shoes made slight sloshing sounds, the floor squishing underneath them.

Stay in here.

He walked around the corner of the bed.

No matter what you hear...

She was lying on her back, legs splayed out, and arms at odd angles, one positioned where her hand rested on the other side of her head. Her dress bloodied and red with a similar red spot, looking black in the center, except it was on her stomach. Her manicured nails chipped down to the pinkie and thumb.

Do not come out of here until all the noise has settled. Her thumbs had wiped away his tears.

He crouched down before crawling over the bloodstained carpet to her until he was by her shoulder.

Her hands had cupped his small face.

Her eyes, once beautiful and rich dark chocolate, were now staring listlessly up at the ceiling. No life was in them - no vibrant spirit of life.

He tried gently shaking her shoulder and her neck and head moved in motion with his gentle shakes, but she didn't respond. He tried harder, "Mother!" Her lips did not move in to give response.

Don't be afraid my darling. She'd kissed his forehead. She'd kissed him goodbye.

His tears fell uncontrollably. "No! Mother no!" He shook her harder and her head just flopped to the side, her eyes continuing to stare at nothing. "Mommy! Mommy please!" He screamed. "No goodbyes! Wake up! You promised! Mommy please!"

Everything will be alright.

The sirens were loud now and the lights flashed through the dim-lit room, drowning out the boy's screams. Any words that tried to escape his mouth were incoherent, as he buried his face into her blood-soaked dress. His face pressed against her chest as he gripped one of her shoulders, wailing for her to wake up.

He didn't look up at the commotion outside which he couldn't hear over his screams. No, he just regretted his silence. He should have come out so the wouldn't leave him.

I promise.