There were people in the house. His uncle never invited anyone over, it was one of their many rules. But tonight there were other people in the house.

Tobias knew exactly when they came. He glanced at the clock when he heard the first knock. 10:52 pm. His uncle was slumped on the couch, clutching a beer bottle in his fist, too busy focusing on what was happening on the TV. A pile of brown unopened envelopes littered half the wooden coffee table and an unfinished glass of water and an empty beer bottle sat on the other half. His uncle was well into his third bottle of the night.

The sound of the show drained out almost everything. He had school the next morning so Tobias sat on the staircase, peeking into the living room. It was the only way he could still watch the show without his uncle noticing.

He slowly crept back to his room after the first set of knocks. His uncle still hadn't moved from the couch. He might have been halfway drunk but Tobias didn't want to risk being caught or experience whatever his uncle saw fit as punishment. The floorboards creaked with every step he took until he was well and truly out of view.

A couple more rounds of knocks sounded, followed by the front door opening. Tobias had just closed his bedroom when he heard raised voices, only one of which was familiar. His uncle's. There were thundering footsteps. Something smashed against the wall.

Tobias flinched.

His uncle's voice was growing more frantic.

Something was very wrong. Tobias quickly snapped the lock in place and stepped away from the door. His gaze moved over every surface, looking for something he could use as a weapon if it truly came to it.

Someone was screaming.

Without thinking, he swiped the straight razor he stole from his uncle out from his desk drawer. He clutched it in a death grip as he flattened himself to the floor and slid into the space beneath his bed. Just as soon as his whole body disappeared under the bed, a gunshot rang.

Tobias froze. His breaths got stuck in his throat, only the vicious pounding of his heart against his chest reminded him he was still alive. But for how long. The sound he heard was a gunshot, it was unmistakable.

Perhaps it was his uncle that fired the shot. His uncle was a cop, he had guns in the house. But deep down, Tobias knew his efforts of being optimistic were futile. It was one against how many other people were really downstairs and the odds weren't favorable.

A few more rounds of shots were fired and Tobias flinched each time. Then it was silent again. But even that didn't last long as no more than seconds later, doors were being flung open. Voices sounded out words he could hear but couldn't understand. They spoke in a different language.

Footsteps were ascending the stairs. As it drew closer, they almost sounded as loud as the gunshots. They were right outside his door.

The doorknob twisted but nothing happened. It was locked.

Tobias gripped his razor even tighter to the point the metal handle bit into his skin. He counted each of his breaths. There was a solid thud against the door. It rattled the wood frames. Tobias swallowed down a gasp when he realized what they were doing.

They broke the door down.

He could only see their shoes from his position under the bed. There were four from what he could see. He wasn't sure if this was all of them or if there were more waiting downstairs. He placed a hand over his mouth.

They surveyed his entire room, his closet, the bathroom, everywhere he could have possibly hidden.

Just when he thought they were done and about to leave, a firm hand clamped around his ankle and tugged. He screamed as he was pulled from his hiding place. He was pulled to his feet by the collar of his shirt and the moment Tobias straightened, he struck out with the blade he kept concealed. He aimed for the face and caught the man that held him up on the cheek.

The wound bled immediately.

He flashed his teeth at them, the razor dripping blood. But no matter how fearless and resilient he forced himself to be, he was still just a child going against four grown adults. It had never been a fair fight.

One of them backhanded him so hard, the force of it sent him to the floor. His cheeks throbbed with the pain. Another came to stand in front of him.

The man in front of him had a gaze so frigid, it made Tobias shiver. It was the gaze of a man that has killed before. It was the gaze of a man that just murdered his uncle.

This time when they spoke, it was in English.

" Is he the son?" The man in front of him asked.

" Nephew." The man next to him answered.

Tobias would have let out a derisive snort if he wasn't in danger of losing his life. His uncle didn't have any children, he didn't even have a wife. He would have to care about someone other than himself to have those things.

" He looks no older than ten." The second man to speak continued.

When Tobias focused a bit more on them, he realized they shared similar features. Same hair, same bone structure, same soulless eyes. Father and son perhaps. Tobias was actually fourteen and had been told many times that he looked small for his age so he didn't bother correcting them.

" Shoot him. He is no use to me anyway." The father said and Tobias stiffened.

The man might have just ordered his death but nothing unsettled him more than the way the son was looking at him.

" That won't be necessary." The son said then crouched down to Tobias's level.

" Lorenzo!" The father hissed but Lorenzo simply ignored it.

" Your uncle owes me a lot of money and I came here to collect what I'm owed. When he wouldn't give it to me, I shot him. Right between the eyes." Lorenzo said, motioning to the exact spot he shot Tobias's uncle. " Your uncle was a piece of work and now that he's dead, I still don't have my money. That's the problem right now. I could take everything he owns. I could sell this house and everything in it and it still wouldn't be enough. But you." Lorenzo's smile was more of a threat than a show of mirth. " You are going to make me a lot of money."

There was a man walking in front of him and one following from behind as they led him downstairs. Before Tobias could reach the last stair, he had already caught sight of the wreckage. Everything was either tossed on the floor or broken and then there was his uncle, who was lying in a pool of his own blood in the living room. Sightless eyes stared up at the ceiling. Tobias didn't bother asking what they were going to do with the body, it didn't matter. What mattered to him more was survival.

That night Tobias believed he was lucky to have walked away with his life but years later, he realized his uncle had it easy. It would have been better if they had just killed him.