echo This is a work of pure fiction. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The themes and actions portrayed in this story are fictional and should not be interpreted as a reflection of real-life behaviour or events.
Content warning: Graphic violence, blood, dysfunctional family dynamics(?)
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When Mia opened her eyes, the night had already swallowed the distant glow of streetlights on the highway. She leaned back in her seat as she adjusted to the hum of tires on asphalt, fingers drumming restlessly against her thighs as the familiar strains of Radiohead filled the car.
Shortly after she came to her senses, her brother started to squabble over who would control the AC.
“You always get it your way!” Terry huffed.
“I’m older! I should get dibs!” Mia swiftly shot back, their parents chuckling at the playful scene at the backseat. Laughter turned to screams as Terry’s fist connected with Mia’s head, the impact sending a sickening crack through the air. The car swerved uncontrollably as everything turned into shouts and muffled cries. Suddenly, everything came to a jarring halt as metal screeched and shattered glass rained down on top of them.
Radio silence.
Mia’s eyes widened in shock as the smell of gasoline hung thick in the air. The car had slammed into something—a lamppost, perhaps, but something felt off. The air crackled with tension as the crunch of shattered glass rang through the stillness, cutting through the stunned silence like a knife. The world around her spun, disoriented by both the fall and the sheer weight of what had just happened.
“Dad!” she instinctively shouted, voice cracking as she frantically searched for him among the debris. Rocks crunched beneath her feet as she stumbled away from the wreckage, each step sending jolts of terror through her body. She glimpsed him a few yards away, kneeling on the ground, his hands trembling over Terry’s still form.
“Terry!” her father gasped, face pale and drawn as the boy draped on his lap, his once vibrant face now pale and drained of colour. Blood trickled from a gash on his forehead, mingling with the dirt and debris that littered the ground around him. Words ran acrid in Mia’s mouth as she struggled to cry out at the sight, her throat parched and raw, a metallic tang lingering on her tongue. Her mother let out a sharp cry of agony, temporarily bringing Mia back to reality.
The forest around them whispered with the rustle of unseen wildlife, a contrast to the silence that had enveloped Mia’s parents. She glanced back at her parents, their faces etched with grief, and took a deep breath. “Mom, Dad,” she said, her voice steady against the tumult of despair around them. “We need to find somewhere to stay… we need to keep moving.”
Her father turned to her, eyes red-rimmed and dull. “How could you? We just—” His voice cracked, unable to finish. Her mother stood beside him, still clutching Terry’s toy as if it held the last remnants of her son. Her mother wiped at her tears with trembling hands but nodded slowly; they had to find shelter before nightfall.
As they trudged forward, every crack of a branch underfoot sent shivers down Mia’s spine. The forest loomed around them—dark and unyielding. Each step felt heavier than the last, laden with grief and fractured memories that hung like fog in their minds.
“Perhaps we should have stayed back,” murmured her father, breaking the stillness as he brushed a hand through his dishevelled hair. “You should have been quiet! ” he snapped, eyes narrowing to Mia as he stomped on the shards spread across the grass. Mia’s heart raced; she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as guilt tumbled into anger.
“I wasn’t—” she started, but before she could finish, a loud crash echoed from outside, jolting the three of them. Suddenly, a rustle in the nearby bushes sent a shiver down Mia’s spine. Her heart raced as she exchanged a glance with her parents.
“Did you hear that?” Mia’s mother whispered.
Before anyone could respond, a loud crack echoed through the trees. A shot rang out in the distance, followed by a second—this one closer. Instinct kicked in; Mia’s mother grabbed her hand tightly, pulling her toward the safety of a towering oak tree.
“Stay down!” her father commanded, his eyes scanning for signs of movement. They ducked behind the trunk, hearts pounding in unison and they struggled to breath.
“What was that?” Mia whispered, her voice barely a tremor above the rain-soaked ground.
“Do I look like I know?” Her father’s dark eyes narrowed, squinting at what they could make out of the woods stretching out ahead of them. Mia felt her breath catch in her throat, all the oxygen rushing out of her lungs. Her heart thumped shrilly. Rabbit-quick in her chest. Morbidly fitting. They were merely rabbits in a trap, after all, waiting for a hand to reach out and—
“Mia.” She startled, head whipping around sharply to meet her father’s gaze. His phone rested in his palm, the screen flickering weakly. “Is your phone broken?”
Her hand scrabbled for the pocket of her jeans, nails digging into the overly tight denim, sweaty fingers slipping off the fabric. Eventually, her palm closed around the device, yanking it out. It took a few tries to press the power button on the side without losing her grip on her phone, but it flickered to life. Fissures littered the screen like cracks on pavement, but she could still make out the cherry-pink of her Hello Kitty lockscreen.
“No.” Hope flared in her chest, pounding against the confines of her ribs. “It’s—it’s working.”
“Call 9-1-1.” Her father slumped against the trunk, flicking sweat away from his brow. “Call 9-1-1, Mia.”
Her hands trembled. “Why me?”
“Because you’re the reason Terry’s dead.”
Something sparked in her brain.
Still, there was no point in arguing, so Mia bit down on her lip and reached for her phone again, slick fingers glancing off the keypad. Nine. Then one. Another one. No signal. Again. Nine. One. One. No signal. Again. Nine. One. One. Over and over again, faster each time, nine one one nine one one nineoneone until it all blurred together in a haze of tears.
No signal.
The hope in her chest blinked out like a dying candle.
Her father noticed at the same time that she did, horror spreading over his face as he stared at his phone. “Shit!” He yanked his arm back, as if to fling the device to the ground—or maybe hit her, maybe both—before seeming to think the better of it, lowering his hand again. “Shit!”
“Dear, calm down—” her mother started.
Mia’s father ignored her, whirling around on his daughter. “This is all your fault!” he shouted.
“Dad, it’s going to hear us—” Mia managed to eke out, even though she hardly knew what it was.
“You should have just stayed quiet and let him have his way! All he wanted was to turn the stupid AC up, and now he’s dead! And it’s all your fault!” Her father darted forward, his hands connecting with Mia’s chest.
Her feet gave way from beneath her, more from the shock than the actual force of the shove itself. She went tumbling down into the leaves below, elbows slamming against the ground. A sharp pain rocketed up her arm, sending her world tilting sideways for a moment. She felt it before she saw it—a droplet of warm liquid creeping down her skin, a trickle that soon grew to a rush, spilling red wine onto the forest floor. Blood. Thick and viscous and vermillion where it met the twig sticking out of her arm, two inches of twisted wood poking from her skin.
Her father stared at the blood trickling down her arm, then back at her face. Mia watched his chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath, then stood up straight.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Her mother hesitated. “What if it—whatever it is—sees us?”
“Better than staying here to die.” And without a second glance back at Mia, he stalked off. Her mother cast a single worried look at her daughter before heading off too.
Mia squeezed her eyes shut, agony twinging its way up her arm every time she breathed. Slowly, she forced herself to get to her feet, brushing off the leaves clinging to her jeans as best as she could. Her feet crunched across the ground, far too loud for the silence that seemed to have settled over the woods as she caught up to her parents just in time to see her father lift his cracked phone to his ear.
“Hello—” he started, right before frustration erupted over his face. He let out an agonised howl, flinging his phone to the ground. “No signal. No freaking signal!”
Mia’s mother let out a sob, clutching Terry’s bear to her chest tighter. Her father’s gaze drifted to it. Mia saw the way tears welled up in his eyes, a stark contrast against the rage creasing his brow. “Terry—”
The anger in her chest exploded, splintering across her ribs and spilling blood everywhere, as scarlet as the liquid dripping down her arm. “Terry this, Terry that! You pushed me, yelled at me, blamed me for his death when he was the one who punched me, and yet, he’s still all you care about!”
“Mia!” her father yelled. “How could you say that? Terry is dead!”
“And I bet you wish I was the one who died instead!” Mia screamed.
As the tension between them reached a fever pitch, the sound of a distant wail—a siren—pierced the darkness. All eyes turned to the source of the wailing, a momentary ceasefire in their heated exchange. “Do you hear it, Mom? Dad?” Mia whispered, her voice trembling but hopeful, her eyes wide with a glimmer of something they hadn’t felt for hours: relief.
Mia’s mother gripped her husband’s arm. “Oh God, they found us! They found us!”. Her father nodded, his face pale with exhaustion, but relief glimmered in his eyes. “They’ll come for us. We’re going to be okay,” he muttered.
Mia’s parents stepped forward, squinting through the trees, trying to catch a glimpse of the rescue team. Mia stood behind them, her eyes sharp, watching the distant lights, watching her parents. Her heart wasn’t racing. She felt nothing but absolute, certain resolve.
They’re so sure they’re going to be saved.
Her mother called out again, her voice weak but warm with relief, “Mia, come on! We’re going to be alright. Walk faster!”
But Mia didn’t answer. Her eyes stayed locked on them. Her breath was steady as she slid the knife from its sheath. She looked down at the blade, cold and heavy in her hands. It felt right. She felt right.
She took a step towards her parents. Her mother still didn’t notice her. She was preoccupied with the flashing lights, too busy discussing what she would tell the rescue officers and believing in salvation.
Mia moved quickly.
With a forceful shove, she separated her mother from her father and pierced the knife through her skin, branding the blade into her side. Her mother gasped, but no scream escaped her lips; there was no time to react. Her body jolted in shock as blood gushed out of her body, staining everything beneath her with its warmth and darkness.
“Rachel!” her father screamed, the horror too loud now. His face filled with disbelief as he registered the scene around him. “Mia—what the hell are you doing?”
But before he could even reach her, Mia was already at his back, hands steady as she knocked him over the head with her ankle. He choked, gasped, and collapsed onto the ground next to his wife.
For a second, Mia hesitated. The plan had always been to enact revenge for what they’d done, but for a moment, she almost regretted it. She would lose it all. Almost. But then she saw the glimmer in her father’s eyes—the same indifference, the same cold superiority he’d always carried. He had never cared about her. Not like he cared about Terry.
In one deliberate thrust, the world tilted, and Mia’s father fell beside his once cheerful wife. Mia stepped back, panting, watching as her parents’ bodies collapsed to the ground, gripping a knife from the bag they’d been carrying in her hands—silent, cold, and ruthless.
For a long moment, Mia stood there, hands slick with their blood, her body unmoving. She stared at her parents until her father remained still, his vacant eyes still locked on her. No tears. No words.
The sirens wailed louder now, but the sound seemed hollow. Distant. Help was too far gone.
She turned, and walked into the darkness.
Written by: Madeline, Amberlyn
Edited by: Zhen Li
