"Mummy?"

A woman in a yellow dress turned from the counter. In my vision, I saw her smile as she wiped a dish.

"Hanuh?" She beamed, "What is it dear?"

I looked down at my little hands. I knew, we all knew. that this was my adoptive family. My real mother had tasked my grandfather with protecting me, as she could not. Still, as much as my childish mind could think, I wondered... I loved my family, but I had another one out there as well.

"What she like?"

From behind me, I heard a heavy cough. Turning, I saw my adoptive father slouching on the couch. I pushed the blond strands of my hair aside as he looked up at my after the forced cough. He smiled, "Only your granddaddy met her."

"I know!" I shouted, lifting my arms and throwing them down on the wooden floor below. I pouted, like all children do, then heard footsteps behind me.

"Honey," my new mother sighed, "What have we said about throwing tantrums?"

I turned, feeling sheepish, at the woman whose arms were crossed. Her eyebrow was raised, I felt my body temperature rise. Before I could say anything, however, the door opened. The woman looked up and beamed.

"Hey, father!"

I felt the cool breeze of the evening wind fluffing my hair and blowing my dress. Turning, I saw a thin, elderly man at the doorway. Pushing up his glasses, the man closed the door. He appeared exhausted, looking back now. In the moment, however, I pulled myself up and ran to the man, "Gran'pa!"

He let out an oof as I barreled into him, squeezing his legs with all my strength. I looked up, seeing him smile down at me with eyes that, now, I recall being filled with nostalgic sorrow. He bent his wrinkled hand down, scuffling my hair. I winced as he spoke me name fondly. Pulling away, I rubbed my head as he lightly chuckled.

"Hanuh!" My mother called. I turned to see her carrying a bucket of water. "Come wash up, sweetie."

Supper! I turned as darted towards the kitchen as fast as my chubby, toddler legs could carry me. As I scrambled onto the wooden stool to wash my hands, I heard a loud bang on the door. Every head turned to eye the door. Immediately, another heavy pounding resounded. Something inside me felt strangely disquiet. It was as if my instincts flared within the moment, telling me to run. My father sighed, pulling himself up from the cough.

"Shop's closed, you ungrateful patrons, don't come here for-"

My grandfather lifted his hand to stop his son, turning to him with an intense look I had never seen before. More and more, I felt the urge to cry, run, or something...

"Son," He narrowed his eyes, removing his glasses, "Get the spea-"

The door swung open forcefully. I heard myself scream as my mother dropped the barrel. As water splashed across the kitchen floor, another form of liquid spilled onto the entrance's. A terrible liquid, which I just saw for the first time.

Blood.