Raw Crimson Rage

Aria

The soft, yet insistent voice of Allay, my little boy, has abruptly interrupted my slumber. Bleary-eyed and disoriented, I stumble out of bed, following the guidance of my little boy's voice echoing through the darkened hallways of our home. There is a growing sense of dread within me as I hurry towards Harmony's room.

As I push the door open, my heart seizes in my chest. The sight before me makes my blood run cold. The bed is empty, Harmony is nowhere to be found. Panic spreads through my veins as I desperately scan the room, searching for any sign of my beloved baby girl.

Allay, only two years old and unable to articulate the events that had unfolded, can only call out his sister's name repeatedly, with a mixture of fear and confusion. His tiny voice breaks my heart, amplifying my urgency and desperation.

But just as despair threatens to consume me entirely, a glimmer of hope materializes in the form of my grandfather. Gramps returns with Harmony cradled safely in his arms, her