Chapter | 05

1K 59 11
                                    

05
___________________________________

"Mom?" I stand barefoot at the top of the spiraling stairs touching the wooden floor downstairs.

"Go sleep Riley. It's too late for you to be up." Something is not right about her voice. Even as a twelve year old, I can recognise a sudden edge clinging onto her usually sweet voice.

"Mom, are you alright?"  I take a step down, peering through the vast space to see if I can spot her through the dim light.

"I'm alright sweetie, j-just go s-sleep."  Her voice doesn't contain the normal, every day smile. Instead, fear bleeds out of it, causing her to tremble at her evidently forced words.

I ignore the anxious feeling dancing in my stomach, and respond with a hesitant, "Okay."

"Are you sure she's going to bed? "  The same male voice I heard from my room few minutes ago, glues me to my spot, and I end up even walking further down the wooden stairs.

That same anonymous voice interrupted the peaceful dreams that kept me comfortable in the soft linen sheets. I hear shouting and the sound of glass shattering against the hard floor, followed by my mother's arguing voice and a warning voice from the mystery man.

"Yes. She always listens to me." My mother breathes out the words.

I tip-toe to the source of the whispering voices, making sure to take discreet steps to the kitchen. Peeking at the two figures from behind a wall, I  see my mother in her work attire and a man dressed in only black clothes.

Who is he?

I hurriedly hide my petite frame under a nearby brown, wooden table, a few meters away from my mother and the stranger. With having a new perspective, a shiny black object in the man's tight grasp reflects the dim light pervading the room. A silent gasp escapes my quivering lips at the sight of the gun, and I place a palm on my mouth to encapsulate any sound from betraying me.

"Now, where's the money? " The man asks, pointing the dangerous weapon to her forehead. I begin to feel hot tears at the rim of my eyes.
"I don't have any money." A sob escapes my mother's lips, her eyes falling shut with the rising fear.

"Don't think I'm stupid. I've seen you hide it somewhere, in this house!"  His voice is rising by the minute, encouraged by aggravation.

"I-I s-swear. I d-don't have i-it."  Tears slide down her flushed cheeks, mascara leaving a trail of black lines along her red skin.


"Stop lying! If you don't tell me where it is right now, I will kill you!"

By now, a river has already escaped my eyes. The tears won't give up, the fear won't cease. I fear for my mother's life.

"P-Please d-don't do it." I silently cry to the man not to pull the trigger, though my whispering voice can't reach his ears.

"P-Please."

"Riley."

"P-please."

"Riley, wake up."

A voice wakes me up, automatically stopping the bad dream of memories and forcing it to say its farewell. Once my eyes open, they land on the layer of concern and worry plastered all over a pair of forest green eyes.

Letters From An AdmirerWhere stories live. Discover now