The End

_Tatiana_

The crack of gunfire launched me upright, my chair shrieking across the floor behind me. Father stumbled back, his mouth open, arms thrown wide, reaching for something that wasn't there. A second shot punched through the air before the echo of the first had died, and his body twisted, shoulder catching the corner of the massive table with a heavy thud.

A wineglass shattered against the floor, spilling dark red liquid that looked far too much like blood across the polished wood.

Mother screamed. It was a harrowing, guttural sound I had never heard a human being make before.

Father looked down at his shirt. Blood….so much blood was rapidly blooming across the crisp white fabric. He touched the wound gingerly, as if he couldn’t quite believe it belonged to him.

Then his knees gave out.

“No.” The word slipped out of my mouth before I realized I’d even spoken. No, no, no. This isn’t real. This is a nightmare. I’ll wake up any second with my book still open on my lap and Father teasing me about my sleep schedule.

Mother rushed toward him, dropping to her knees and pressing her hands desperately against the chest wound. “Viktor! Honey, stay with me. Look at me, please. Stay with me!”

Bang!

Another shot rang out. Mother froze. The bullet had buried itself in the wall mere inches from her head. Kain hadn’t missed. It was a deliberate warning.

“What do you want?” Mother begged, her voice trembling but fierce as she held his gaze. “Is it money? Just say a number! Whatever it is, it’s yours. Just stop this!”

“You don’t owe me money.” A silent, heavy understanding passed between them.

Suddenly, Aunt Sofia lunged across the table for the silver carving knife, her movements desperate and wild. I wanted to scream at her to stop, to stay down, but my mouth hung open and no sound came out.

She never reached it.

A bullet caught her before her fingers could close around the handle. She collapsed heavily across the table, knocking plates and silverware crashing to the floor in a chaotic symphony of destruction.

Someone was crying harsh, choking sobs. It took me a painful second to realize it was me. I couldn’t stop. The room blurred into a smear of crimson and shattered crystal. I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt like it was caving in.

The stranger kept walking forward, his steps measured and calm, as if he were simply taking a stroll through the garden. The high-pitched ringing in my ears swallowed every other sound.

I stared at Father’s hand hanging limply off the edge of the table. Frighteningly still. His gold wedding ring was now tainted with dark red caught the light one last time as his hand went still. Mother remained on her knees beside him, her elegant sleeves soaked through with his blood.

“Please,” she whispered, voice breaking. She wasn’t talking to me. “Please… not like this.”

The stranger stopped right beside them.

Mother looked up slowly, and for the first time since the killer entered, her eyes found mine. The terror in them—for me—was absolute.

“Tatiana.” I couldn’t move. My body refused to obey. “Tatiana, listen to me.”

I couldn’t. Nothing made sense anymore. This couldn’t be happening.

Mother stood up with trembling legs, deliberately placing her body between the killer and me. “No,” her voice shook, but she forced steel into it. “You leave her out of this. She’s just a child.”

“She’s 22. Old enough to pay for her father's sins.” He knows my age? He raised the gun.

She spread her arms the way she used to in doorways when I was small and trying to slip past her. “Mama…” I choked out.

She looked back at me one last time, her eyes filled with a lifetime of love and regret. “I love you. I’m so sorry, my darling girl.”

Crack.

The shot echoed through the room like final judgment. Mother stumbled backward, straight into me. Her weight knocked me clear out of my chair, and the hardwood floor slammed painfully into my back.

She landed heavily on top of me. A wave of warm, sticky liquid instantly soaked through my dress, seeping into my skin.

“Mama?” I tried to lift her, my hands shaking violently. “Mama… Mama, get up. Please, we have to go. We have to run.”

Her breath came in wet, shallow gasps against my ear. “The… safe. Behind my portrait. Seven... four..." She coughed blood. "...one… nine..."

“No, stop it. Don’t talk like that.” My voice cracked.

“Listen to me.” Her fingers clamped onto my wrist with surprising strength. “Don’t trust… anyone. Promise me.”

“I promise, just get up, please. Please, Mama.”

Her face was buried against my shoulder, her dark hair covering her features. I couldn’t see her eyes. Blindly, I grabbed her hand. Her fingers squeezed mine back, painfully tight for one final moment.

Then… they slipped away.

I thought I felt her chest move one last time. Or maybe it was just my own heart hammering wildly against my ribs. I didn’t know anymore. I couldn’t tell where she ended and I began.

A pair of heavy black boots stopped right in front of us.

I looked up through a haze of tears. Kain’s gun was pointed directly at my face. He didn't lower the gun so much as he paused. Strangely, everything went entirely calm. The panic vanished, replaced by a numbing acceptance. I wondered if this was what soldiers felt at the end.

This was it. This was my end.

Who would have thought I would die like this? I hadn’t even seen the outside of these mansion walls properly. I was going to die without ever actually living , without knowing what it felt like to be truly seen.

I closed my eyes.