The Changed (Completed)

Chapter Four: Soldiers

It was late into the afternoon when I heard the dogs barking in the hallway.

From my bedroom, I could sense there were three growling dogs, each accompanied by large men. I stiffened beneath my blanket, hoping they'd pass by our door.

Debbie Pheonix. A grizzly voice delivered the name to my room. It was my mother's name.

Slowly, I crept from the bed to my mother's room.

It was cleaned immaculately. Each drawer of her dresser had rows of neatly folded shirts and sweaters. I removed a stack, reaching toward the back of the drawer. My fingers found the cold metal of the pistol, wrapping around the barrel.

I held the weapon at a distance whilst moving my mom's hanging coats to the side of the closet. Sliding between the coats and the back wall, I hid.

Each sniff of the dogs sent shivers down my spine. I could smell that they were wet from the rain, stinking. One of the men smoked cigarettes. Someone chewed spearmint gum. I swallowed.

Two loud knocks seemed to rattle the door of the apartment. The man with the grizzly voice announced, "Government house check! Open up!"

I gripped the gun tighter, hoping the silence would deter them.

More knocks followed and the dogs joined in a barking frenzy.

"Someone is definitely home," the man said.

A loud thud almost caused me to drop the gun. The apartment shook as the man kicked the door. Wood splintered as the barrier between us gave way.

With shaking hands, I pointed the gun at the closet door, my finger trembling on the trigger.

Someone was coming down the hallway. Their footsteps echoed until they reached the apartment and froze.

My mother gasped, "What are you doing!"

Slobbery growls erupted from the dogs, "ON YOUR KNEES!"

I slung open the closet door. Why was my mother home so early? My breath ran away from me as I bounded into the living room.

"What is going on?" My mom was on her knees with her hands on her head. A large man in a dark soldier's uniform pointed the barrel of a large gun at her temple.

Two other soldiers raised their guns at my approach. Large German shepherds locked eyes with me, drool dripping down their muzzles, "On your knees, kid!" One of the soldiers growled.

"Listen to them, Margo," my mom's face was turned toward the floor. Tears dripped onto the carpet.

"DROP THE WEAPON OR WE SHOOT!" The soldier's gun clicked, the barrel in line with my heart.

The pistol quivered in my hand as I slowly put it on the floor. I held my arms up, whimpering.

The soldiers' eyes were dark beneath their helmets. When they grabbed me, their grips were tight, digging into my exposed skin.

"What are you doing! Where are you taking her!" My mom begged from the floor. She was unable to move beneath the pointed gun, but her teary gaze found my eyes, "Margo!" she screamed.

I'd never heard a gun fire, but I imagined it would be louder. The soldier's gun must have had something to silence it. I heard it click and then make a noise like air being pushed through a tunnel.

The large soldiers pulling me into the hallway darkened most of the scene. I didn't need the full picture. I heard her hit the floor as blood splattered across the carpet. I saw her body, but not her face.

A strange gurgly laugh began in my throat. I laughed aloud as I was hauled down the stairwell, my legs collapsing beneath me. Chocolate milk and bits of waffle came up from my late breakfast, spewing across the soldiers' boots. I thought I saw the dogs trying to eat it which only made me vomit again. Something wet trickled down my leg, and more wet on my face. Was I crying or peeing or throwing up again?

Through the stairwell, someone's scream was echoing around in circles, trapped by the concrete. If the soldiers didn't have me by the arms, I would have wanted to cover my ears. It was a horrible scream–like a wail from a banshee, hoarse, angry, and broken.

My vision was blurred by the bright light of day. Outdoor air slammed into me like a car. I thought I felt rain hitting my face. The rain was taken from me by a sharp stab in the arm. The screaming stopped at the jab.

All came to a stop.

Hello readers! If this is your second time reading this book, you may notice that the chapters so far are significantly shorter. This is because there will be fewer events in each chapter and more events in the book overall. Thank you. - N.K Ansley 

 Question for the comments: Margo's reaction to the trauma of losing her mother was a heavy experience to write; are there any scenes in literature or television that you have found difficult to read or watch? I watched a television show recently that had a really gruesome scene where a woman was crushed in a door. Still haunting my nightmares!