Sleep usually came easy to Sebastian. Life was good, the town was thriving, and a pretty girl was prancing about in his dreams. But that peaceful slumber was interrupted not only by the sounds outside the Graham home, but also by the sound of his sister calling out. It took but a few moments for Sebastian to wake enough to throw himself out of bed, his best friend who slept in the bed opposite of him doing the same. Now that he was fully awake, the sounds outside were easy to distinguish--gunfire. He ran, snatching his bow and slinging his quiver over his shoulder as he threw the bedroom door open, as he bolted into the upstairs hallway. " I r i s ! " He shouted upon seeing his little sister, a hand reached out, instinctively pulling at her to put himself between her and the staircase. "What's goin' on out there?" He questioned, eyes moving down the hall the second he heard his father's bedroom door fling open. Mr. Graham was read, gun loaded and slippers on as he barelled out into the hallway. Before Sebastian could even speak to their father, the sound of a window breaking down below had their attention diverted. "Get in yer room. Lock the door and don't come out until Pa or I get ya," Sebastian ordered to Iris before grabbing hold of his best friend's arm. "Stay outside her door. Don't let anyone get in. Get my gun if ya need it," he urged, moving to the side as their father was already on his way downstairs to take care of things.
Gunshots grew louder as seconds flew by. With Sebastian's hands moving her by the shoulders, Iris's eyes met his in response. "I dunno, but it sounds real bad." As their father emerged, locked and loaded, and a window broke downstairs, her alert rapidly turned to a wide-eyed stare and thundering heartbeat.
She knew better than to oppose him on this. Sure, she could use a gun, but didn't have permission to use one in Jackson. Had one though, a revolver hidden right under her bed in an unassuming box. A sweet sixteen gift from Papa that he kept in town as 'his gun' for regulation reasons. But maybe she'd only only get in the way or use up her last few bullets missing targets, and if anyone saw her with the handgun, maybe they'd give her and her family hell for it. Would they even care in an emergency? Iris hadn't fired that thing since they were on the road, and besides, Seb and Papa were much better shots. She could use her knife down there, but what good would that do in her position? How'd that saying go--"never bring a knife to a gunfight"?
She was no soldier or butcher, no bounty hunter or reckless fool. This was not her fight. As she dashed to her bedroom and slammed the door, twisting its lock, she heard it over and over again. That sound...that clattering with the smashing of glass, sets of feet she could imagine trampling right over it and into their living room where she had been sleeping not long ago. Moments too slow, or even too soon if she made it to bed before hearing anything, could have made all the difference. For better or worse.
Instinct, Iris. Instinct knows the way.
Yanking out her nightstand drawer, she removed an old hunting knife and stretched over her bed to grab something. Iris made way to her closet and shut herself in with breaths heavy, sitting down. Back in Ledbetter, the closet in Iris's bedroom was much bigger. Maybe it was just that everything seemed more grand when one was younger or feeling so terribly small in a moment of need, but it was there that she kept a lantern, a stuffed animal, and dictionary inside for the times she needed to slip away for whatever reason to keep two feet on the ground. She still did it here sometimes, much like this, but with less dread.
Iris slipped the cover off the knife and tucked the worn teddy bear under her elbow, prepared to wait out the chaos. No light, no book. Just herself and the sounds of struggle, muffled, though heard on the floor below. Her breaths seemed so loud in the silent space and the blinking of wet eyes grew more intense with each exhale.
This is going to be ugly, isn't it? Were we ever really safe anywhere, or does it always end like this, somehow, some way?
