Jory reached the tent just as another explosion tore through the air.
This time…
it wasn't somewhere far.
It was inside the camp.
Close.
Too close.
The sound didn't just echo.
It broke everything around it.
The ground beneath her feet shook violently, and for a split second, Jory lost her balance.
But she didn't fall.
She pushed herself forward.
Faster.
The tent was only a few steps away.
But suddenly, those steps felt longer than they should.
As if the distance had stretched.
As if the world was slowing down just to make her feel it.
Another blast.
Closer.
The air shifted.
Dust rose like a wall.
Jory covered her face with her arm and kept moving.
She couldn't stop.
Not now.
Not when she was this close.
She reached the tent.
She pushed the fabric aside—
"Mama!"
Her voice came out louder than she expected.
Inside, everything felt smaller.
Tighter.
Her mother was already pulling her sister up.
The little girl was crying.
Not screaming.
Crying in that quiet, broken way that children cry when they don't understand fear—
only feel it.
"Stay next to me!" her mother said.
This time, her voice was different.
Not calm.
Not distant.
Urgent.
Jory nodded quickly and moved closer.
Her heart was racing now.
Not controlled anymore.
Not steady.
This was different.
This wasn't the sky far above.
This was here.
Inside their world.
Another explosion hit.
So close that the tent itself shook violently.
The poles rattled.
The fabric snapped loudly.
For a second—
Jory thought it might collapse.
Her sister screamed.
Her mother held both of them tightly.
Jory could feel her mother's heartbeat.
Fast.
Uneven.
Human.
Not strong.
Not unbreakable.
Just… afraid.
And that scared Jory more than anything else.
Because her father used to look strong.
Her mother used to feel safe.
But now—
even they were shaking.
"Mama…" Jory whispered.
Her voice smaller now.
"Is it coming here?"
Her mother didn't answer.
She just held her tighter.
And that was the answer.
Outside, the noise didn't stop.
It grew.
Layered.
Explosions.
Shouting.
Running feet.
Something falling.
Something breaking.
The world wasn't just loud anymore.
It was collapsing.
Suddenly—
a scream.
Not far.
Not distant.
Right outside.
Jory's body froze.
Her eyes widened.
That sound—
was different.
It wasn't fear.
It wasn't panic.
It was pain.
Real pain.
Her mother heard it too.
They both looked toward the entrance of the tent.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Because they both knew…
stepping outside meant seeing something you couldn't forget.
Another scream.
Shorter this time.
Weaker.
Jory couldn't stop herself.
She stepped forward.
"Mama, wait—"
But Jory was already at the entrance.
She pushed the fabric aside.
And stepped out.
The world outside had changed.
Not slowly.
Not gradually.
But instantly.
Smoke filled the air.
Thick.
Heavy.
It made it hard to see.
Hard to breathe.
The sky—
was gone.
Hidden behind gray and black.
The ground—
wasn't the same ground anymore.
Pieces of things were scattered everywhere.
Wood.
Cloth.
Metal.
And something else.
Something she didn't want to understand.
People were moving.
But not like before.
Not careful.
Not slow.
Now—
they were running.
Shouting.
Carrying.
Looking.
Searching.
A man passed by her—
holding something in his arms.
Jory didn't look directly.
But she saw enough.
Too small.
Too still.
Her chest tightened.
Her breath caught.
But she didn't cry.
Not yet.
Because her eyes had found something else.
Near the ground.
A boy.
Maybe a little older than her.
Lying on his side.
Not moving.
His hand slightly raised—
as if he had been reaching for something.
The scream she heard earlier—
was his.
Or had been.
Jory took a step forward.
Then another.
Slow.
Careful.
Like she was afraid that even walking too fast might break something.
"Jory!"
Her mother's voice behind her.
But it sounded far away.
Distant.
Muted.
Jory knelt beside the boy.
Her hands trembling now.
Not from fear.
But from something deeper.
Something heavier.
She had never been this close before.
Never this close to pain that didn't disappear.
"Hey…" she whispered.
Her voice soft.
Almost afraid.
No response.
She reached out slowly.
Her fingers hovering above his arm.
Then—
touching.
Warm.
But not moving.
Not responding.
Jory's breath shook.
"Mama…" she called.
But this time—
her voice broke.
Her mother reached her quickly.
Pulled her back.
"No."
Just one word.
Firm.
Final.
Jory resisted for a moment.
Just a moment.
Then she stopped.
Because she understood.
There are things you cannot fix.
No matter how much you want to.
Another explosion.
Closer again.
The ground shook.
Her mother grabbed her hand tightly.
"We have to move."
Jory looked once more at the boy.
Just one second longer.
As if her eyes were trying to remember him.
Then—
she turned.
And ran.
Not because she wasn't afraid.
But because now…
she understood what fear really meant.
And it wasn't the sound.
It wasn't the sky.
It wasn't even the explosions.
It was this—
The moment you realize
that not everyone gets up again.