The moment the name "Bellincioni" hit my ears, Mom was instantly on her feet, her face a mask of raw panic that froze me in place. Without a word, she gripped my arm like a lifeline and pulled me toward the staircase.

My feet scraped cold marble as I struggled to keep pace, heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird. Just before we turned a corner, my eyes caught sight of the shattered front door swinging open on broken hinges, shards of a vase scattered like fallen stars across the floor.

Voices erupted from downstairs, distorted and distant at first: angry shouts, orders barked in a low and dangerous tone, then the sudden crack and echo of gunshots. My ears rang, and a cold wave of dread swept through me, pinning me to the spot.

Mom yanked open the door to their bedroom — hers and Dad’s — and dragged me inside with desperate urgency. She slammed the door behind us, the lock clicking into place with a finality that sent my stomach twisting.

"Under the bed," she commanded, eyes sharp but not angry. There was no room for defiance, only obedience. I curled myself under the bedframe, the darkness swallowing me whole as I tried to steady my breathing, to quiet the storm raging inside.

From my hidden vantage point, I peered out, straining to catch any movement in the dim light. My heart lurched as the door exploded inward, splinters flying, and the heavy tread of black boots filled the room’s silence. Shadows lengthened and blurred, swallowing the edges of the figure standing before me.

The voice that followed was cold and graveled. "Where’s the money?" it demanded.

Mom’s voice was steady but trembling as she refused, slowly backing away, her every step a fragile dance with death.

Then came the shots: three sharp, brutal cracks that sliced through the air like knives. My breath hitched as Mom’s body crumpled to the floor, a haunting stillness swallowing the room.

The ringing in my ears grew deafening, an unbearable crescendo that drowned out every other sound except the thudding echo of my own heart breaking.

The boots retreated slowly, crossing the threshold, leaving behind a door smeared with dark streaks that looked almost like tears against the pale wood.

Time fractured. Moments passed—yet I couldn’t be certain how many—before I dared to emerge from my hiding place. The moonlight spilled through the large window, laying a cold silver wash over the room and the broken pieces of my life.

There she was—mom—lifeless on the floor, her once-pristine white shirt stained black by blood that seemed to swallow every light in the room. I knelt beside her, voice barely a whisper, "Mom?" but her eyes stared back empty and unyielding.

The weight of the world crashed down, and my knees gave way. I collapsed onto the cold floor, numb and hollow, unable to process the horrific finality of what had just happened.

Then a guttural scream tore from my throat, raw and shattering the silence, a sound so desperate it echoed through the house and into the night.

My hands trembled uncontrollably as I pressed against the wound, futilely trying to staunch the blood that flowed like a river between us. But her skin was ice, her gaze void, confirming what my heart refused to accept: she was gone.

The room around me felt distant, as though I were trapped underwater, the world muted and slow. My mind raced, trying to grasp the fragments of shattered normalcy, trying to remember a time before this nightmare.

The bell toll of sorrow had begun, and nothing felt the same anymore. Fear and grief had wrapped themselves around me like a suffocating shroud, but beneath the pain, a fierce resolve simmered — I had to survive. For Mom. For my family.

I wiped my hands on the cold floor, the blood refusing to wash away, just as the heavy silence pressed down, endless and merciless.

Outside, the distant wail of sirens began to rise, but they felt too late, a hollow echo against the finality inside our home.

As the first light of dawn threatened the horizon, I stayed there, clutching the shattered remnants of my world, knowing nothing would ever be the same again.