“O-o-o-one,” Pa started counting slowly.

Lately, he was too tired because of his new job and often refused to play hide-and-seek, but today he was given a weekend, and Martin, though not without difficulty, finally convinced his pa to play with him. Mom, who was now in the kitchen cooking something tasty, he didn’t even ask, for she was very bad at hiding — usually not a minute went by before Martin found her in the pantry or around the corner of the bathroom.

Right after he heard the first number, Martin glanced around in confusion, having no clue where he should run this time. He was already hiding under the table, as well as in the closet in the parents’ bedroom, and every time Pa found him effortlessly.

“Two-o-o-o…”

And at this very moment, a wonderful idea flashed through his mind. Inspired by it, he rushed like hell to his room, hoping to get there before his pa said twenty, otherwise it would be late and he would lose. Then he would have to sit on the living-room couch, close his eyes and, slowly counting to twenty, wait for his pa to hide. The counting was the most difficult thing in all of it. In spite of the fact that he almost mastered numbers thanks to this game, it was always intolerable for him to count. Counting, he frequently missed four or mixed five up with seven, and every time he had to start over to keep from getting confused.

Martin tiptoed quietly up the stairs and ran into his room. He sprinted to the bed and pulled the blanket up to him. He was already lying on his back and covering himself with the blanket when Pa said “ni-i-i-ne” loudly.

How did he not guess it before! A couple of days ago, while playing with his mom, he tried to hide in this new, secret place, and she, of course, didn't find him. She even went into his room and walked around his bed for a long time, saying loudly: “Where's Ma-a-a-a-rtin? I can't find him! Where's he gone?”. Then he grinned to himself, “Mom, you're very bad at hide-and-seek! Here I am, right here under the blanket!”. Later, when Mom walked off in the direction of the kitchen and shouted in an upset voice: “Well, Martin, that's not fair! I can't find you!”, he came out of his hiding place, but when asked where he hid so well, he didn't answer and, smiling broadly, went off to eat potato pie. No, he would never tell anyone about his new hideout!

And now, fraught with desire to try this trick on his pa, he covered all of his body’s parts with the blanket. Making sure his feet were out of sight, he covered himself head-to-toe with the blanket, at the end folding his arms along his stomach.

“Ni-i-inety-y-y… Twenty! Now I'm gonna find you, Mr. Hawkins!” came his pa’s voice from the living-room.

Martin sighed with a quiet laughter, covering his mouth with his palm. Now, he was incredibly angry at his pa. It's forbidden to joke during the hide-and-seek game, for somebody might accidentally laugh and give themselves away. And Pa was well aware that it always amused him when he called him by his last name.

He’s coming, thought Martin when after a while he heard footsteps approaching his room. He immediately took his hands away from his mouth and folded them along his torso.

“Where’s Ma-a-a-artin?” his pa's voice sounded quite near him, beside his bed.

Martin began to breathe silently by his mouth, listening for his pa's footsteps. Apparently, he was now standing near his desk and moving something around. Here he went to the closet and the doors creaked open…

“I can't see Martin,” Pa was saying thoughtfully.

They are so stupid, he thought excitedly, trying not to laugh. First his mom couldn't find him here, and now his pa is pacing around for a couple of minutes unable to realize that he, Martin, is here, lying on the bed.

Martin let out a quiet chuckle, similar to a squeak, and immediately tensed up, trying not to move the blanket that covered his entire body.

Inside, in the heart area, he suddenly felt a heaviness. Everything froze. He lost. Of course, his pa heard him laughing. And now he is going to lift up the blanket and find him.

For a couple of seconds, Pa stood in his place and Martin was paralyzed with fear, listening for his every move. But soon he heard his pa moving and starting off to the door.

“Oh, where’s Martin? Should I go to the bathroom and take a look there…?” somehow Pa sounded too joyful.

He was surprised by the cheerful voice of his pa. If Martin was him, he would rather be upset — Pa must be really bad at hide-and-seek if he didn't notice him right here, on the bad.

“The dinner is getting colder!” yelled Mom from the kitchen.

A few minutes had passed. The loud steps of his pa came to Martin from somewhere far. Pa will go to this room to look for him not soon enough, but when he does, Martin will jump out from under the blanket and go to dinner. If Pa searched in one place and didn't find him, it always means an unspoken victory, and the one who comes to search in the same place twice must admit defeat.

“Where's our Martin, honey? I can't find him anywhere,” said Pa in some kind of a peculiar tone. It was clear he was smiling.

“I don't know where Martin is but I know the supper will get cold soon!” answered Mom in a serious voice.

“Did you hear, Martin? Let's go to eat! I give up!”

Let out a heavy breath, Martin pulled out the blanket, opened the door and ran on the stairs. Pa stood on the first floor near the pantry and, surprised, glanced at him.

“Here's our prankster! Tell me where you’ve been hiding,” Pa ruffled his hair and gently pushed him towards the kitchen.

“It’s not fair, you were supposed to find me!” said Martin resentfully, sat down at the table and pulled towards himself a glass of fruit drink.

“I’m sure I’ll find you next time, you’ll see!” said Pa with a challenge in his voice and, smiling, looked at Mom.

Then Mom and Pa started discussing tedious tax-related issues, and Martin began to enjoy the most delicious lasagna in the world.

***

“Well, it was a marvelous supper! Thank you, honey,” said Pa, getting up from the chair.

“Thank you, Mom!” cried out Martin, jumping out from the table. He ran after Pa, who had already settled on the couch in front of the TV. “Why couldn't you find me?” he questioned, slowly trying to bring up the conversation to another plea to play with him. Now, pretty aware that when he is covered with the blanket nobody can see him, he wanted to play this game again and again.

“Probably, you hide yourself very well,” said Pa, as though even grinning at him. He reached out to the TV remote to continue watching the baseball game.

“Let's…”

Martin intended to say, “Let's play again”, but reluctantly grew quiet. He heard a strange fuss behind the front door. Somebody was rapidly approaching their house and at this moment standing on the doorstep. Apparently, there were a few people.

“Someone came, do you hear?” said Mom without interrupting washing the dishes.

Martin’s heart started pounding with anxiety. Something was wrong. The people on the other side of the door stood still for a while, clearly in no hurry to ring the bell or knock.

“I’ll check,” said Pa, getting up from the couch with a disgruntled sigh.

Meanwhile, the sports channel was turned on and the commentator's voice rang out: “THE U.S. TEAM HAS TWO POINTS, AND NO ONE BUT MIKE TROUT IS ON THE FIELD…”

But Pa didn't even have time to say anything, as the door swung open violently and two men in black sweaters and sweatpants ran into the house. There were dark masks on their heads so it was only possible to see their eyes, two capacious backpacks on their backs.

“What's happening?” screamed Mom, closing the water tap. She reached towards the cutlery, probably trying to find anything to defend herself with.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“What's going on here? I’ll call the police!” shouted Pa, approaching the people dressed in the black clothes.

“Pa!” Martin’s heart tightened. He wanted to yell out, “Pa, don't go near them”, but the terrible heaviness rose in his chest and made it hard for him to breathe.

He had already seen it on TV. “Robbers” — that is what they called these scary men dressed in black suits. Now these two will shout: “give us your money and no one will get hurt”... Of course, no one will get hurt. There is no other way. Martin hoped so.

“Martin, Ellis, hide! Run away!” turned Pa to their side and, in the meantime, squeezed his fists and took a fighting pose.

“Pa, I know what to do!” all of a sudden, cried out Martin.

At this instant, one of the robbers pressed the hallway’s switches and the living-room and the kitchen grew dim. Now the only source of the illumination was the chandelier in Martin's room, and its light was barely reaching the first floor. But, at least, this light was enough to see one of the dark figures approaching Pa and pulling out something of the pocket — something that flashed with metallic glow for a brief moment.

“Mom, I don't want…” shouted Martin loudly, making his way to the kitchen. He didn't know what exactly he did not want. He just knew that everything that happens to him depends on his parents. Of course, everything is always just up to mom and dad. And now he wanted them to stop it.

“Son, run! Run upstairs!” screamed Mom and extended her hand to the phone lying on the table. “I'm calling the police! Help! Help!!!” she continued yelling.

“Mom, I'm scared…” whispered Martin, seeing nothing with tears, and pressed himself to his mom’s leg.

“Everything's okay, it's okay,” whispered back Mom, trying to push him away from herself so he could run.

“MARTIN, RUN AWAY!” shouted Pa at the top of his voice. Martin couldn't disobey him.

“Mom, I know where to hide! They won't find us there!” screamed Martin, hoping his parents will trust him and run for him.

But after a few seconds, something odd happened: one of the strangers leaned his hand against Pa’s stomach, in which he held something sharp. This “something” stabbed into Pa with a nasty dull sound, making him let out a hoarse groan and fall back onto the couch he stood beside.

“ROBERT! DON'T TOUCH HIM!!!” shrieked his mom so loudly that Martin’s ears rang. She dropped the phone on the floor and pressed her trembling hands to her mouth.

“Mom, I… Come with me!” pleaded Martin, out of breath with incredible fear. Meanwhile, robbers were beating his pa with their hands and legs, and Pa was tumbling from one side to the other — depending on where the blow came. He hardly resisted anymore.

Mom stood in the centre of the kitchen, just in front of the robbers, and squalled as she watched Pa being beaten by these horrible men. But Martin realized that they had to act as fast as they could while they still had a choice.

“Mom, please, I know what to do!” Martin sobbed, clenching his fists with anger. Why does nobody listen to him?

“Martin, run!” he didn't even have time to come to his senses, as Mom pulled him to the stairs, clutching him around his stomach and lifting him from the floor. Running up to the stairs, she released him and slightly pushed ahead. They ran. Martin, squeezing her hand with all his might, tugged her after him, but suddenly something strange happened again: Mom broke away from his hands and fell onto the stairs with her face down. A man dressed in the black suit clutched her leg and started pulling her to the first floor so her head bounced up on every step.

“Mom!!” blubbered Martin as he almost reached the second floor and stared down. There was his mom lying on the bottom steps and trying as hard as she could to fight off the hands in the black gloves reaching her. Martin saw her wriggling and desperately trying to get up on the floor.

“Martin, lock yourself in the room!” shouted Mom. “DON'T TOUCH MY KID! DON’T TOUCH—”

But by the time he got up to the second floor, her screams became quieter. Martin couldn't help but watch this man beating his mom — that was exactly how he had beaten Pa. Martin, trying his best to hold the scream of an unbelievable fear, rushed through the hallway to his room where the light was still on and partially illuminated the stairs.

No, no…

Running into the room, Martin pushed the door shut with both his hands, but he had no idea which way to turn the lock to lock the door up. It seemed his hands were trembling so much that they lost any strength, and, despite all his pains, he couldn't turn the lock which was on the level of his eyes.

“Why didn't you listen to me…?” he sobbed loudly, standing in the centre of the room.

Hearing footsteps approaching, Martin left the lock. With an incredible anger, he scrambled onto the bed just as he did then before supper. He in a hurry laid on his back, made sure he covered all the parts of his body and pulled the blanket over his head. He still sobbed, wiping his face with his hand, but at the same time tried to listen for what was happening downstairs. It is most likely that his pa already got up on his feet and taught these rascals a lesson! How else to explain the utter stillness that prevailed on the first floor?

Martin tried to listen to the surrounding sounds, but the beating of his heart that was ringing in his ears disturbed him. He barely heard a voice from the TV: “THE PITCH IS SHORTENING, IT'S A GREAT STRIKE ON THE BALL…”, and right after that something collapsed loudly on the floor. From the sound of it, there were splinters flying around. Somebody dropped the TV. And it was hardly Pa, who took great care to keep it safe and was constantly repairing something in it.

Slow shuffling footsteps were heard outside the door to his room, which sounded rather strange, considering that a moment ago these people had been moving through their house at breakneck speed.

“Ma-a-arti-i-in!” a loud male voice came to him. But it was not Pa. “Martin, come out!”

There were rustling noises coming from downstairs, as if the second robber put out his hand and was walking along the shelves and throwing everything to the floor. Martin could clearly hear the creak of a closet door in the living-room near the TV. The people that broke into their house were looking for something.

“Martin, where are you?” from his voice, the robber stopped on the other side of the door to his room. A second — a turn of the knob, then a click — and the door was open. A scary man came into his room.

Martin, as he was doing it before, started breathing through his mouth, for it was much quieter than breathing through the nose, and tried hard to hold back his tears. Every time he remembered how his mom was literally snatched from his arms, he wanted to scream loudly. But he knew it was too late. The game began and to start crying would mean to give himself away.

“Ma-a-artin… Where’s our Ma-artin?” he heard a step away from him. Terror gripped him, goosebumps ran from his tailbone to the back of his neck. If up to this moment he had been shaking with fear, now he was completely paralyzed, as soon as he heard this alien voice beside his bed.

That was the tone of voice his mom and pa used when they were trying to find him. Martin really didn’t want to play with this evil man slowly walking around his bed from side to side but he didn’t know how to stop this game.

“Marty, come out, I can’t see you…” the robber said in an upset voice. But Martin didn’t give in — he knew that he must never come out from under the blanket, otherwise he would be found and beaten just like Mom and Pa.

“About fifty grand in cash!” shouted the second robber from downstairs. His voice was much more earnest and firm than the one who was now walking around Martin's bed.

“Where’s our Ma-arty..?”

Martin started shivering again, laying under the blanket. He felt that this terrible man stood beside his bed, just near his feet. But anyway, Martin hoped he didn't see him. He knew: there wasn't much time left to wait, and soon these dreadful people would leave their house.

“What about the boy?” the same voice came from the first floor.

“I can't find Ma-a-arty” the man next to Martin's bed continued his drawling as if with a smile on his face. From the voice Martin heard just a few feet away from him, the man was looking directly at him. Martin was horrified, and he could smell his own sweat.

“What the hell is your stupid tone? If you can't, get back! That bitch yelled too loud, the neighbors got tense!”

Bitch, thought Martin, finally opening his eyes. He could see nothing but the red fabric of the blanket. Upon thinking, he realized that the man who had been pacing around their house on the first floor just called his mom a "bitch". Even though he had no idea what that word meant, he still wanted to jump to his feet, pull the blanket that would be perfect as a superhero cape over his shoulders, and punch the rascals right in the face.

The robber standing beside his bed paused for a moment, then there was a loud sigh. This sigh was very long and heavy. After that, Martin heard the rapid receding footsteps. A couple of seconds later, the footsteps of the robber who had just been walking around him came from the stairs.

Martin exhaled. He won — the robber didn't find him! And that prolonged sigh was clearly a sigh of defeat.

Making sure he is alone in his room, Martin pulled the blanket off his head with shaky hands, not daring to climb out entirely.

Aliens were still on the first floor, just below him, and discussing something quietly:

“You got everything?”

“Everything in here.”

“Come on, let's go.”

For a couple of seconds more, loud footsteps reached him, and after a switch clicked downstairs, everything went silent.

Martin laid on the bed for a while longer, with only his eyes peering out from under the blanket. What if the robbers just wanted to lure him out by pretending they had gone — and now they were hoping he would believe them and climb out, and then they would beat him the way they had beaten his mom and pa?

Martin didn't know how much time had passed. He could only count to twenty, and he had already counted twice from beginning to end, before he was finally sure that the robbers were indeed no longer in the house. It was all quiet downstairs.

“Mom... Mom! I'm here! Mom!”

Martin threw off the blanket with a jerk and began to slowly climb down. His feet touched the floor and he realised that he could hardly move — his whole body was shaking unbearably.

He made his way to the stairs and began to descend slowly, stopping with both feet on each step, afraid to see what was below.

“Pa! Mom! I'm here! Where are you…?”

The light on the first floor was switched on again, and already from the middle of the stairs Martin saw Mom lying in a strange pose on the bottom steps. She was lying with her back to him, but he could see that on the side of her stomach her green T-shirt was soaked with red liquid.

Blood. It's blood, Martin thought, remembering scenes from the films his pa liked to watch on TV.

Still trembling, he bent over to his mom and sat beside her for a couple of minutes, waiting for her to open her eyes and look at him.

“Mom, please get up…”

But despite all his pleadings, Mom still didn't move.

He rose to his feet, turned round and walked slowly towards his pa, who, unmoving, was lying on the sofa with his head tilted back. His T-shirt, just like his mom’s, was soaked with blood and now had a huge red stain on it.

“No… I don't want—” remembered Martin the very scary word that his parents always tried to avoid in his presence — death. They died... “I don't want…”

Tears flowed down his cheeks again, and, knowing in advance that no one will answer him, he asked the question that had been tormenting him since the moment those horrible men broke into their house:

“Why, why didn't you hide under the blanket with me...?”