Child.
I was hiding behind the soldier, clutching my little sister's hand. Her fingers were trembling, and I could feel her heartbeat pulsing in my palm. We were pressed against the cold stone walls of the tunnel, trying to make ourselves as small as possible. I could hear the others, the children huddled together, all of us waiting in the dark, our breaths shaky as we tried to be quiet.
But the air felt wrong, heavy. It was too quiet. And then I heard it—the sound of someone walking. Slow, deliberate steps that echoed through the tunnel, cutting through the silence like a blade.
