The sound of horse hooves pounding on the ground increases the speed of my heart. Each beat of the little organ is in synch with every step the horse makes. When none of the hooves seem to touch the ground, my heart seems to stop and all is quiet, but when the earth seems to shake with each powerful stomp, my anxious heart appears to be shaking my body. It’s even evident to Elissa, whom I’ve always tried to hide my fears from. She’s older now, though, so it’s become harder to shield her from everything she was once oblivious to.

“D-d-do you think that’s D-dad?” she questions, running down the stairs. Her feet are so loud against the wood that I can barely hear her over the sound of them. The fact that she mumbles, stutters and talks fast doesn’t help. Mom and I have different theories about the reason she doesn’t speak clearly. Mom’s guess is that she’s just unintelligent, while mine is that she may be suffering from the lack of confidence that’s caused by the way our mother mistreats us. But there’s no doubt that the wars and rumors of them aren’t helping.

“Who else could it be?” I answer. She has no idea. I go over the possibilities in my head of who else could be knocking on our door, and decide that it couldn’t be anyone else. It has to be our father. But why is he back so soon? And it wouldn’t make a difference for me if it’s him or not, but for my sister and mother it would make all the difference.

“You don’t have to sound so snappy, Skylar,” my mother scolds. I didn’t realize she was in this room; I thought she was still across the house preparing our early Thanksgiving dinner. And it’s not as if I mean to sound ‘snappy’ when I talk; it’s just that nervousness brings it out of me sometimes. I’ve had plenty of opportunities to be nervous in these past few years, starting on my seventh birthday. Elissa had just been born right in our house, and everything was going better than my parents expected. My father was pretty disturbed for a long while after the birth of our newest addition, but a week later he seemed fine.

My parents didn’t imagine we would get by on the income that came in tiny amounts here and there, but we survived against all odds. But the instant the first explosion took place, destroying a good portion of our country, everything went downhill. The simple stories of World War IIII and the four nuclear bombs that traveled by word of mouth could also be contributing to her speech impediment, I suppose. We were both so young, but Elissa is much more sensitive than I am.

The knocking turns into banging, and when I look back at my nine-year-old sister to see her reaction, I notice that she’s staring at the door with wide eyes as she shrinks back toward the stairs. It doesn’t occur to me that she may actually be looking out the window to the right of the door until I look myself.

“Elissa, go,” I say in a hushed, firm voice as I nod in the direction of our underground escape route. I don’t see Mom anywhere, so I assume she’s already gone down without us. I just pray she hasn’t locked it yet.

“No, Sky,” she replies, her voice more firm than mine. “I won’t leave you here. I won’t.”

“I promise I’ll go right after you. Go, Elissa!”

“Promise me you will–”

My little sister is cut off when the door bursts open. It slams against the wall, causing the house to shake and some of the pictures on the wall to fall. I tell Elissa to run and this time she doesn’t hesitate. She disappears around the corner just in time, and the armed men who flood in miss her by a split-second. I was too close to the door and I know they already saw me through the window so I don’t bother running with her. To do so would be to lead them right to her and my mother.

Knowing it’s too late for me, I do as instructed and raise my hands above my head, then turn in a circle to show them I’m unarmed. My turning obviously isn’t enough for the seven Tamers. Five have one gun of two each aimed at me as two step forward, moving quickly toward me. I force myself to stay still, as I know that there’s no way I could outrun a bullet. An image suddenly appears in my mind of my own body being shot, and one of the bullets opening up, or exploding inside me like I’ve seen them do to others.

As the two Tamers walk closer to me, I back up, knowing what they intend to do. My efforts to get away are hindered by the wall behind me. As if I could disappear right into it, I press my back against it until I can’t move any further. Then I give up. I’m surrounded by the seven men and their rifles and I know that they wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if I were to try to escape.

“You have nothing to hide, so why are you scared?” the taller one asks suspiciously. I purse my lips, trying not to make any noises, but fail. I emit a whimper as they run their hands down my sides and various other places on my body, checking for hidden weapons. The whimper tells a story – one that I’ve never let anyone read, but the Tamer who spoke seems to have a slight idea. Removing his hands from my hips, he says, “Alright, she’s without arms. Search the house for anyone else and then we’ll go.”