A gush of my mother’s blood hit me in the face. She was holding her neck and looking at me with imploring eyes. She was trying to speak, but little more than a gurgling sound escaped her mouth.

Standing next to her, I was watching, petrified.

As much as she tried to stop it, blood ran between her fingers, soaking the blue coverlet of the big bed. It had formed a dark, threatening stain, which wouldn’t stop expanding.

I didn’t understand.

She kept on shaking the other hand spasmodically. She was pointing down.

When I’d heard the first shouting in the living room, I’d sought refuge in my parents’ room, hiding under the bed. After a few minutes, someone entered. I recognised my mother’s feet, but she wasn’t alone. A man whispered to her, ordering her to behave. If she did everything he told her, he wouldn’t kill her. I heard her whimpering.

Then there was a thud on the bed and my mother’s feet disappeared from view.

‘Yeah, that’s good,’ the stranger said. Shortly after, I couldn’t see his feet anymore, either.

I heard her shout, cry, while the bed started moving the way it used to do when my brother jumped around on it to scare me, knowing that I was hiding underneath.

That movement continued for a while, then stopped.

The man released a deep sigh. ‘Did you like it? Tell me the truth.’ I could hear shortness of breath in his voice.

But Mummy was silent.

‘Tell me you liked it, slut!’

‘I … liked it,’ she murmured at last.

A coarse laugh, then another shout. Then silence.

He was gone, so I decided to leave my hiding place.

‘Are you hurt, Mum?’

I could feel my eyes filling up with tears and I would’ve liked to run to her, to let her hug me, but I was scared of all that blood.

Her body trembled, once, twice, three times. Then her arm stopped moving and slipped on her side. Her gaze was empty, staring at nothing.

My teeth started chattering. I couldn’t stop them. Trembling, I headed for the door and looked out into the corridor. Paul was lying face down on the fitted carpet, motionless. More blood was wetting the back of his pyjama shirt.

For a moment, I considered rushing to him and shaking him, but deep inside I knew he wouldn’t be able to help me.

My father’s agonising screaming made me turn towards the living room.

‘No … please …’

‘No, please,’ an unknown male voice mocked him. ‘Is this the best you can say?’

‘I’ll give you whatever you want, but leave my family alone.’

Loud laughter reached me. It died down almost immediately.

As if attracted by an inescapable force, I covered, one by one, the few metres separating me from the living room. When I reached the doorway, I saw three men standing with their backs to me. They were tall, dressed in black. At once, I recognised the trainers of the one who had killed my mother.

My breath failed me and on instinct, I backed off, hiding behind the half-closed door. But I couldn’t leave. I wanted to understand.

One of the strangers moved, allowing me to see my father. He was tied to one of those chairs Mummy wouldn’t let me put my feet on; blood was all over him.

‘Where’s the safe?’ one of the three asked. He sounded gentle.

Daddy shook his head. ‘There’s no safe; I swear to God—’

He could not finish the sentence as the man grabbed a bottle from the table and hit him in the face with it. The glass shattered, throwing shards all around him, wine splashing his clothes.

‘Don’t lie to me!’ the assailant shouted. ‘I know perfectly well you have a safe. You must tell me where it is, and open it!’

‘I swear I have none,’ my father replied, imploring. Blood ran from a wound on his head and around the corner of his mouth.

The third man aimed a gun at his temple. ‘I’m killing this chap.’

‘Slow down. We need him alive, if we wanna open that fucking safe.’

The third man’s face twisted in a grimace. He removed the barrel of his gun from my father’s head and aimed it down.

There was a gunshot, followed by a scream.

‘Oh, yeah, are you screaming now?’ He kept on threatening him. ‘If you don’t tell me where the safe is, I’ll shoot you in your other foot, too.’

‘I have a better idea.’ A fourth man had spoken. He was tall, with burning eyes. He’d just walked in from the kitchen. He was carrying a big knife. ‘I intended to try this game with his wife and then his son, but given that some of you had the brilliant idea to snuff them out without asking my permission …’ He darted a disgusted glance at the other three, all of whom moved away. He seemed like the leader of the gang, even though he was little more than a boy.

My father wasn’t moving, waiting for his torturer to finish his speech.

‘I’m forced to cut off this daddy’s boy’s fingers one by one until he tells me where the jewellery is.’

For a moment, I thought I saw a glimpse of relief on my father’s face. At the time, I didn’t understand, but now I reckon he was thinking of me. They hadn’t mentioned me; perhaps I was still alive, perhaps they didn’t know I existed.

‘I’m not lying to you.’ Now he was speaking with deliberate obstinacy. ‘I own no valuable jewellery. There’s something belonging to my wife in our bedroom.’ He moved his head as for indicating the room. ‘But it isn’t worth much. I’m just an ordinary clerk. You’ve taken the wrong person.’

‘Shut your fucking mouth!’ the gang leader ordered. ‘I perfectly know who you are, and if there isn’t really anything valuable here … well … we’ll find out soon enough.’

He gestured to the man next to him. The latter moved closer to my father and grabbed his right wrist, pulled out his little finger, laying it on the table next to the chair and forcing him to close the other fingers.

‘No, please, you’re making a mistake!’

The leader raised the hand holding the knife and then brought it down. The dull noise of the blade shearing through the bone and sticking into the wood table-top was replaced by cries of pain.

I hadn’t imagined that my father was capable of emitting such a sound.

I backed off while an imaginary hand gripped my chest.

‘I swear to God!’

I recognised that noise again, even though I couldn’t see anymore what was happening. I ran away. I went back to my parents’ room. Mummy was still there, soaking in her own blood, her eyes wide open. I didn’t want to look at her, so I turned off the bedside lamp. Then I sneaked in under the bed.

More screams, and then more of them again. Unending screams. I put my fingers in my ears and pressed them as hard as I could until I heard nothing more.

I stayed there, unmoving, curled up in the dark. Without realising it, I slipped into a pleasant sleep and then dreamt that I was still in my bed, that all that horror was just a nightmare, that my mummy would come and wake me up and tell me to hurry, because I must go to school.

But when I woke, I was still there, on the fitted carpet under the bed. My hands were aching from keeping them on my ears. I tried to remove them. There was silence, save for the wind howling through the open window. I opened my eyes. There was light. It was already morning. Specks of dust, illuminated by the rays of sunlight, were whirling in front of me. I sneezed.

There was a dull thud, and the wind stopped howling.

‘Holy smoke!’ an authoritative man’s voice exclaimed. ‘Be careful, you may contaminate the scene.’

Footsteps. The clicking noise of a camera. The high-pitched sound of a flash charging.

‘Perhaps there was an open window and a current of air built up,’ another man’s voice suggested, this time younger. ‘I’ll go take a look.’

Footsteps moved closer until I saw a pair of black shoes entering the room.

A sigh. ‘Fuck,’ the new arrival murmured, then he added aloud, ‘There’s another corpse here!’

More clicking noise of a camera. The man squatted. I could see his knees. He put some kind of ruler on the floor, and then he clicked again.

He seemed about to stand up again, but then he stopped. He aimed his small electric torch down, then he started moving it, as if he was following something. My eyes were burning; my nose was running. I couldn’t help but sneeze again.

His head peeped under the bed. The light was aiming at me, blinding me. ‘Oh my God …’ He lowered his electric torch. It wasn’t bothering me now. ‘Hey, sweetheart, are you okay?’

I was looking at him, uncertain. A part of me wanted to respond to his tender voice, but at the same time, I didn’t know whether I could trust him.

‘Boss!’ the man called, turning to the door. ‘There’s a little girl here, she’s alive. Call the paramedics.’ Then he resumed looking at me. ‘What’s your name?’

I moved my lips, but no sound came out.

The man pointed the light beam towards a plastic card he wore on a cord around his neck. ‘I’m with the police. You have nothing to fear. Come, I’ll get you out.’ And he offered a hand to me. ‘My name is Eric, what’s your name?’

I stretched out both arms towards him. There was something reassuring in the sound of his voice. Or perhaps it was his name. I wanted to get out of there, and he could help me.

Eric dropped the electric torch and took my hands. ‘Promise you’ll keep your eyes shut until I tell you that you can open them, won’t you?’

I nodded and did as I’d been told.

I felt myself being dragged out from under the bed, and then lifted. I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my head in his chest. I could feel his body swaying while he strode across the house.

‘Christ, a little girl …’ a woman’s voice commented.

‘Is the ambulance outside?’ Eric asked.

‘Yes, take her away.’ Again, the authoritative voice.

We resumed moving. I was holding him tight. I could sniff a chemical smell coming from his shirt, but it wasn’t unpleasant. I started to feel a sensation of calm. His hand was gently caressing my head, and each time he touched me, it felt like I was a little more protected, safe.

At last I could feel the wind blowing on my nightgown and the sun on the skin of my arms.

‘Okay, you can open your eyes now.’

I raised my head and half-opened my eyes. The bright daylight dazzled me and I was forced to place a hand on my face, but little by little I got accustomed to it. Until I could see him clearly.

Eric smiled. He seemed to me to have the most beautiful smile in the world. Not just his mouth was smiling, but his whole face, including his deep marine blue eyes.

‘Now, will you tell me your name?’

I could feel my lips widening. ‘Mina.’