Young Writers Society

Rapidly beating of the heart, abnormally high production of adrenaline of the body, sharpening of senses.

Loss of thoughts.

Quinn carefully peered through the window, mouth still covered with her hands.

“Hand over your money!”, one of the men said, demandingly. Seemingly the leader of the little group.

Her father tried to reason with them, “Listen gentlemen–”

“–Shut up and hand over the money!”, the robber shouted.

“Gentleme–”

Smack!

Quinn gasped.

The three men angrily looked around as Quinn quickly ducked her head.

Did they see her?

One second passed… another… another…

“There! Behind the window! You two stay with the man!” The leader demanded.

As Quinn quickly tried to reach the back door to close it, her father ran towards the robber who almost reached the door.

“Not my daughter, you–!”

A slam of the door being shut, a turn of a key closing it, a smack of the back of a gun against someone’s skull, the thud of someone falling.

Quinn’s thoughts raced through her mind as she tried to hold the door shut after turning the key, she bit on her cheek to keep every sound in. She heard the groans of her father outside, almost the heavy breaths he took, the murmuring of the robbers filled her mind as she tried to think of something.

“Open the door!” One of the robbers suddenly yelled as he pushed at the door.

Quinn flinched and took steps back from the door.

“Don’t let him in, Quinn!”, her father said. “Don’t do it–!”

Smack!

SMACK!

THUD!

The sound of Quinn yelping filled the house.

“That’s right, open the door, child!”

As the robber kicked and punched the door, Quinn fell on her back and with stabbing pain she tried to move backwards, away from the door. Without even giving it a thought, Quinn ran as fast as she could to her room.

She tripped over her jacket and chafed her knee, but that didn’t stop her from running into the bathroom. Quinn closed the door of the bathroom with a loud smash and locked the door.

But that didn’t keep a sound out.

Punch

Her breathing started to become heavier and the function of her lungs slowly started to go against its nature, the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

The sound of her, struggling to breath, struggling to process, filled the entire bathroom. Quinn, trying to steady herself with her hands, failed miserably as she slowly dropped to the floor.

Kick

“F–Focus…, fo–ocus…” Quinn breathed, the pain on her knee and back increasing.

KICK!

“Thought–s…thoughts twist…

Thoughts t–twist, twirl…

Punch. PUNCH!

-wist… twist, twirl…”

Quinn covered her face with her hands and held back a flow of tears while continuing, “Thoughts twist… twist and twirl, turning tumult to tranqui–”

Terror

SMACK!!

Quinn cried down a fountain of tears as she realised what that sound must have been. The thought of her father just laying there, in a pool of his own blood, terrified her to the bone. She had to do something now. Call the police, call the ambulance.

“... My phone!”

As the wind, she unlocked the door and ran out of the bathroom, just as her thoughts raced to find the location of her phone.

But she stopped. Right in the middle of her room.

An awful silence greeted her. Something is wrong, she just knew it. She felt it.

No rustle of a leaf, not a squeak from a bird, not a song from the wind– just a deeply unsettling silence.

What happened?

But the thought of the robbers retreating, as if fearing for what she will do now, filled her mind. Her father would be of dire need of help, she had to find her phone. She had to call for help.

With footsteps echoing throughout the living room, Quinn quickly walked to the counter in the kitchen, where she had left her phone in the early morning.

One step.

Another step.

Another step.

Just another step.

With a swift movement, she grabbed her phone from the countertop and slowly walked to the window. Perhaps they retreated? They retreated. Of course they went away. Right?

Her fingers scrolled to find the right app and finally clicked on the search bar. Her pale, trembling fingers tapped away the number of the police, it would only take two minutes for them to reach her home.

Just as slowly as the phone reached her ear, her eyes reached the window.

Her heart started to pump faster as she stood paralyzed on the floor.

Every muscle froze, eyes unblinking.

Her father, hands tied, on his knees, bruised and bloodied. His clothes were partially torn and smeared with an awful lot of blood and dirt.

And there they stood. Two of them had jewellery, money and her father’s wallet in their hands, while the other had a gun. Pointed at her father.

“Emergency services, this is the City Police, how can I help you?”

They were too late

“I–”

BANG!