Chapter 41: Hell's Doorstep

41: Hell’s Doorstep

Anyra

The compound shines like a beacon in the night, windows lit with penetrating yellow light. I can see people roaming about the interior, not at all aware that their quiet evening is about to be rudely interrupted.

A few people meander outside, clearly separate from the patrolling guards. They look like ordinary people, cleaning things, plucking at the garden in the front. It’s night, but the compound is still alive with activity.

My mother stands beside me, fists clutched at her side and her green eyes staring violently at the place she once called home. Her red hair, done up in a high ponytail, looks like an ember of flame against the night sky.

Most of the others are the same, anger resurfacing as they look at the compound that had kept them prisoners for so long, emotionally and physically.