I woke up gasping, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard it hurt. The nightmare still clung to me — my sister, kaly , her arms flailing as two shadowy figures dragged her away, her screams swallowed up by darkness. I shook my head, trying to scatter the images, but they stayed, stubborn and heavy.
I stumbled out of bed, my feet cold against the wooden floor, and headed for the bathroom. The faucet creaked as I turned it, splashing cold water onto my face. It stung, but it helped. I gripped the edge of the sink, breathing hard, my reflection blurred and ghostly in the mirror.
That's when I heard it — a low, rumbling growl that didn't belong to the early morning. I wiped my face quickly, heart still racing, and rushed to the window.
There it was.
A massive, yellow tractor parked right in front of our house, its engine still humming like it was alive and waiting.
For a second, I just stared. Maybe I was still dreaming. Maybe the nightmare hadn't ended after all.
I ran downstairs, wrenching the front door open. Dust and the sour smell of diesel hit me like a slap. Men in hard hats and neon vests were standing around, casually drinking coffee and laughing. Behind them, more machines idled, hungry.
"No, no, no," I whispered, the words sticking to my dry tongue.
The landlord, Mr. Clarke, was standing near the porch, arms crossed, his mouth set in that ugly, permanent frown he always wore. I didn't even think. I sprinted to him, nearly slipping on the loose gravel.
"Please, Mr. Clarke!" I cried. "Please, just — just give us a little more time. My nana's sick, and my sister—" my voice cracked, "—kaly, she's missing. She was kidnapped!"
He barely blinked.
You're six months late, kid. I've been patient long enough," he said, his voice like a rusted lock.
"I swear I'll find a way to pay! Just a few more days. Please." I felt the hot sting of tears in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
Mr. Clarke looked past me, like I wasn't even there. "We already have the demolition order. You're trespassing on land that's not yours anymore. You should've thought about this sooner."
"But—" I started, but the whine of machinery drowned out my words. The tractor lurched forward a few inches, like it was eager to begin its work.
I turned and bolted back inside. I had minutes. Maybe less.
kaly's things were still scattered around — her jacket thrown over the couch, her battered sneakers by the door. I grabbed what I could — a few photos, my backpack — shoving everything inside with shaking hands. Every crash and thud outside made me jump.
When I looked back one last time, the living room looked hollow. Abandoned.
I stumbled out the back door, clutching the bag to my chest. I didn't know where I was going. I just knew I had to move. I had to survive.
I had to find kaly.
And somehow, I had to make it back home — even if it was gone.