It wasn't just my parents. It was everyone.
The cook who used to sneak me extra sweets, the gardener who taught me how to prune roses, the guards who had sworn to protect the very gate that had been breached an hour ago. All of them were now just still, silent shapes on the floor.
My breath hitched, but my eyes remained dry. It was a strange, hollow sensation, like my soul had retreated into a cold room and locked the door. I wanted to scream, to weep, but the tears simply wouldn't come.
Gerald, our butler, guided us toward the secret panel in the library while constantly hissing at my younger brother to shut up and nudging Sarah, my elder sister to keep moving.
Then, we heard them. The heavy, deliberate thud of boots against the floorboards outside. The handle of the library door turned.
"Check the walls," a rough voice commanded. "The girls and the boy aren't in the foyer. They're here somewhere."
My brother's panic peaked. He broke my grip, his lungs filling for a scream that would have ended us all. Instinct didn't feel like a choice, I did what anyone who wanted to survive would do.
Before he could let out a sound, I threw my weight against him, catching him off guard.
The loose panel we were leaning against gave way with a soft click. He tumbled backward, out into the light of the library, landing hard on the rug.
Sarah froze. He was sure to die anyway with how emotional he was getting. This should buy us time right?.
"Fe...lix" Sarah whispered moving toward the panel. I snatched her arm, pulling her deeper into the shadows of the crawlspace.
Beside us, Gerald stood paralyzed, staring at the keypad that controlled the inner vault door. His mind seemed to have snapped.
Through the tiny gap in the wood, we watched.
My brother scrambled to his feet, his face a mask of snot and terror, reaching back toward the wall where we were hidden. "Please!" he shrieked, his voice finally breaking free. "Help me!"
I'm going to die here, I thought. We're all doomed.
Suddenly, a memory flashed in my mind. The silver picture frames in each of our bedrooms. That didn't hold photos but numbers.
"Zero-nine-four-five-three," I whispered trying to recall.
Like a jolt of electricity had pass through Gerald, he punched the numbers in, and the heavy inner door hissed open. We scrambled inside, the heavy lid sealing just as the attackers smashed through the library panel.
Through a reinforced viewing slit, we saw them grab my brother.
"If you won't come out, he dies!" the voice roared.
I clamped my hand over Sarah's mouth so hard I could feel her teeth, forcing her to stay silent as the shadows of the men fell over him. They didn't hesitate.
We watched the light leave his eyes. Sarah's body went limp against me, but my eyes remained fixed on the killers.
I caused his death, I-
"We have to go," Gerald whispered, his voice cracking. He practically peeled Sarah away from me and forced us down the long, dark incline.
We walked for five minutes in a suffocating silence before Sarah finally snapped. She came to a dead stop and shoved me aside.
"I can't... I have to go back to them!" she gasped, her eyes wide and wild. "Maybe they're still... we have to help them! I'll tell them everything. I'll give them the keys!" She lunged for the briefcase Father had shoved into my hands before he stayed behind. "They aren't dead yet! They're just keeping them captive. All they need is this!"
I grabbed her shoulders, my fingers bruising her skin. She was thrashing, her hysteria loud enough to echo back up the tunnel. She was going to get us killed.
"We need to keep moving," I hissed, my voice sounding like a stranger's. " And If you would just shut up, we'd be at the end by now!"
This isn't me, I thought. What am I saying? I was losing my mind too but I wouldn't let us die. Not after I'd gotten here.
We kept moving until the exit hatch came into sight. I punched the code into the final keypad, and the door swung open. We crawled out into the cool night air, but there was no relief.
Just beyond the estate gates, we could see the flashing lights of police cruisers and the glow of camera crews filming the house. The cruel price of being wealthy, our tragedy was already a lead story.
I took a step toward the sirens, but Gerald's hand clamped onto my shoulder, dragging me back into the tree line. He shook his head slowly.
"We can't trust anyone," he said "Not now."
He pulled a small, black remote from his pocket. He looked at Sarah, then at me. Without a word, he pressed the button.
A split second later, the ground roared. We watched as the mansion and everything inside it was erased in a pillar of fire.