Blinding Light (BLS Book 1)

“Shhhh...” her mother says. “Hush child, they won’t find you in here. I’ll lead them away, be strong, my beautiful angel.” She kisses the girl’s wet cheek and wipes her tears away with her thumb, soft skin against softer skin but only delicate of the lack of experience in reality.

Her mother picks her up, sitting her down in the cold, dark, wooden trap door.

“If they don’t find you, you must run, run, and never look back.”

“I don’t want to leave you, mommy. What if they find me?” The small figure whines, her voice hitching in her throat.

“I don’t want to leave you either, my little angel. You’ve only lived five years. You have your long life ahead of you.

“But know this, I will always be with you,” her mother reassures her with a smile. “They won’t find you. I’ll make sure of it.”

Her mother drops the trap door on top of her with an echoing thud across the empty room.

“Why are you leaving her, mom?” The girl heard her sister say as their mother dragged her away, their footsteps’ echo is the only thing that was left of her loyal family.

It’s safer this way, her mother had told her. Better than them to find only one than both of you, she had said.

The girl keeps reminding herself that everything will be alright—that they won’t find her.

They won’t.

In the small, cramped space, the girl pulls her legs up to her chest. She didn’t know what to do, her heart as empty as the room around her. Her tears seize to fall, in a haze of nothingness the front door is busted down with a bang.

The girl gasps and bites down hard on her shirt collar to stop a scream and a cry—her teeth scrape her tongue in the process. The blood teases her tastebuds, trails down her throat with a warm trail of metallic taste. She squeezes her eyes shut.

There is nothing in the trap door with her, just her alone and she feels the despair of being abandoned and loneliness.

“Where have they gone?” A male voice asks, more of a command to demand an answer instead of a question.

The girl, who is expected to tremble head to toe with fear is so un-naturally silent with her voice completely shut out. Her heart, on the other hand, is beating so loudly she feels as if the people above her head could hear her. She slows down her breathing, knowing that will slow down her screaming heart. All of a sudden, everything stops; for just a split second, every living thing, experiences the crackling feeling of death looming over just around the corner.

Death.

The smell of death.

It is all over the atmosphere in just that split second, everyone above the girl’s trap door felt it.

“What is this feeling?” One woman asks, grasping at her shirt, clutching tightly as her heart races with such terror no words could describe.

One of the men throws a plate across the room, a piece of it falls through the cracks, landing on the girl’s hand and cutting right through her fragile and pale skin.

The sudden change of feeling from absolutely nothing into the stinging of pain stops the feeling of dread.

The girl stares at her hand as the blood drips down—and she listens to it drop onto the floor.

Drip.

She winces with humanity and makes an involuntary noise. More footsteps sound over her head. Just then, someone stands directly on top of her, and the floorboard gives a loud creak.

Someone is on top of her trap door. The person bends down, analyzing. The girl could see the person’s shadowy figure as they picked up something on the floor, the broken glass—so close as if she can see his reflection on it. And he is too close to finding out about the secret.

The girl shrinks down, lower and lower, hoping that the darkness will hide her small figure. The floor creaks again, and she can hear his fingernails scraping the floorboard, looking for something forbidden. Another creak sounds, and her heart drops.

Come find me, I’ll show you.

Someone found the door, found me, she thinks. Mommy, help me.

The girl is never going to see daylight or her family again. Even at such a young age, she knew that. Her nose is burning with the will to just let loose, let her tears freefall.

“Shh, Mila,” a voice says. Then silence.

Her nose stops stinging as the girl is hit with another emotion, the feeling of nurture from this unknown voice to her. Before she can react or comprehend what happened with her undeveloped mind, someone above shouts,

“There!” The noise makes her head spin.

She doesn’t notice when the figure above her trap door stands, nor does she know when his footsteps descend. The girl was so sure that he had seen her—that she would’ve been caught, but she is safe.

The girl lets out a shaky breath and sinks even further onto the cold floor. Her heart never stopped pounding, and tears smear her vision as she holds her bleeding hand. The cut wasn’t deep, but it still lets the warm blood oozes out, tickling her wrist before dropping on the floor.

Drip. Drip.

The girl breathes and lets out a breath that she’s been holding for far too long. I did it, Mommy, she thinks.

***

It has been quiet for some time now, and the girl did not move from her hiding spot. Her forest green, almond-shaped eyes are brighter than usual, making it glimmer in the dark, matching her father, her sister.

She remembers her mother’s words: run and never look back. Her mother’s words meant a thousand stars to her, she didn’t know what her mother meant, but she knew how to run. She reaches up to push the trapdoor open, but it opens by itself, and a light shines in her face, a bright, yellowish-orange one signifying that one of a torch.

The girl flinches, looks away, and sits down, low into what’s left of the space. She wraps her hands around her legs, squeezing herself so tightly as if she lets go, she will fall apart.

I’ve been found, the girl thinks. Mommy, help me.

She waits for hands to grab her, but nothing happens.

She looks up with a terrified expression, expecting to see a full-grown adult, but she sees a boy. He stands there before her. His eyes glow in the light of the torch, an unusual yellow. With those strange eyes, he stares, wide-eyed, and looks around frantically. The boy blows out his torch, and his eyes turn normal, human, except that his pupils are huge, matching those of a dead person.

The girl doesn’t move an inch; only her eyes dart around and steals a look at the door. It is then when he smiles at her—bright, straight teeth shining in the dark.

“I won’t let them find you,” he whispers. The girl stares at him, surprise lighting up her face, but her voice still caught dead in her throat. The boy doesn’t wait for her reply. Instead, he turns and runs into the darkness until his silhouette disappears.

A moment later, she does the same, running into the black night, the darkness coating her figure into nothingness.