The forest felt endless, each step pounding against the cold earth as Michael and Thea ran through the night. Every shadow felt like a hand reaching for them, every snap of a twig a reminder of the horror they'd left behind. Their hearts raced, their breaths ragged and shallow, as they fled, leaving their parents' final words echoing in their minds: "Run. Find your uncle."
When Uncle Mike's cabin finally came into view, they stumbled up to the door, their hands trembling as they knocked. Moments later, the door creaked open, and Uncle Mike's gaze fell upon them, shock etched across his face.
"Michael? Thea?" he asked, his voice low and urgent. "What happened?"
It took a few seconds before Michael could speak, and even then, his voice was strained and hoarse. "They… they attacked Mom and Dad," he whispered. "They told us to run… to find you."
Uncle Mike's face grew dark, his expression hardening as he grasped the gravity of the situation. Without another word, he knelt, meeting their eyes with an intensity that sent a shiver through Michael. "Stay here," he instructed, pulling out a dagger from a hidden drawer. "I'll go back to them. Whatever happens, don't open this door unless you're sure it's me. You hear?"
Michael and Thea nodded, still reeling, their minds a blur. Uncle Mike didn't offer comfort or explanations—there was no time for that. Instead, he gave them a single, steady look before slipping into the shadows, leaving them alone in the dim, silent cabin.
Thea clutched Michael's arm tightly, her voice a trembling whisper. "Michael… do you think Mom and Dad are… are okay?"
Michael's throat tightened, and he forced himself to reply. "They'll be fine," he said, though the words tasted hollow, filled with a dread he couldn't shake. "Uncle Mike will help them. He… he has to."
The minutes dragged on painfully, each one stretching like an eternity. Every faint creak or shift in the cabin felt ominous, pressing in around them. Michael tried to stay calm for Thea's sake, but a gnawing fear sat heavy in his chest, an ache that felt too large for words.
Then, a loud knock shattered the silence. Both siblings flinched, their wide eyes fixed on the door as a familiar voice called out, "It's me. Open the door."
Michael fumbled with the lock, pulling the door open to see Uncle Mike standing there, his face drawn, his eyes hollow. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him as he looked down at them, a deep sadness in his gaze.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with sorrow. "Your parents… they're gone."
The words hit Michael like a punch, his mind reeling in disbelief. For a second, he felt weightless, as though the world had tipped beneath him. Thea let out a strangled cry, her hand clamping over her mouth as tears spilled down her cheeks. She sank to the floor, sobs wracking her small frame, her grief raw and uncontainable.
Michael stood frozen, his hands clenched into fists, his chest tight with a pain he couldn't understand. His vision blurred as tears filled his eyes, and he forced himself to breathe, but each breath felt sharper, heavier. He dropped to his knees beside Thea, reaching out to pull her close, his own tears falling silently as he held her.
Uncle Mike knelt beside them, wrapping his arms around both of them in a strong, steady embrace. "I'm here," he murmured, his voice shaking as he tried to offer comfort. "I'll take care of you both. You're not alone."
They stayed that way, clinging to each other as their grief spilled over, filling the quiet cabin with the sound of their sorrow. In that moment, the world seemed to collapse around them, leaving them adrift in a pain they'd never known.
---
The funeral was a blur, a haze of hollow words and condolences that felt distant and unreal. Michael and Thea stood side by side, hands clasped tightly, their faces pale and drawn. Every word spoken felt like a knife, reopening the wound that hadn't even begun to heal.
After the final words, Uncle Mike knelt down beside them, his voice soft but steady. "Your parents loved you more than anything," he said. "They'd want you to be strong. And no matter what happens, you both have a place with me."
His words were meant to comfort, but Michael felt a numbness settle over him, his grief too vast to put into words.
---
Time moved on, a slow, relentless march that left them to pick up the pieces of their lives. Living with Uncle Mike brought a quiet stability, though it felt like a shadow of the life they'd known. The pain lingered, a dull ache that never fully disappeared, even as they tried to find a new rhythm.
---
One day, as Michael sat outside, lost in thought, a young girl approached him. She was about his age, her eyes wide and curious.
Michael: managing a faint smile "Hi… do you live nearby?"
Lily: nodding, a bit shyly "Yeah. I'm Lily. I saw you around."
That simple introduction marked the start of something new. Over time, Lily and Michael became close friends, sharing stories, laughter, and memories that brought a small light back into Michael's life. Through the years, they grew inseparable, their friendship deepening as they entered high school, each helping the other move forward, bit by bit.