He was afraid for his life in his own house. He snatched
medicines from the cupboards and stuffed homemade quilts into a large sackcloth
bag, which was already laden with biscuits and dried fruits and meat and
anything else that might sustain his family once they escaped.
If they got out in time.
With trembling hands, he grabbed pairs of socks from the cabinet
and crammed them in with the rest of the gear in his makeshift survival kit,
avoiding the gaze of the woman at the door. His wife.
He would have to tell her the horror he had brought upon
them. Why they were no longer safe in their home, where she’d given their son
life seventeen years ago. They had to get out. And for now, there was no time
to explain. Whatever was coming sent shivers through his spine.
And few things frightened Hermes Aurelius.
...to be continued.
