The sound was so loud Leo dropped to his knees, covering his ears.
He remembered the scream.
Then silence.
Rain mixed with ash in his mouth.
After that… nothing.
No mom.
No dad.
No home.
He wandered until morning, his feet dragging through mud, until he found the empty house nearby.
The one his parents warned him about.
The one that became his shelter.
Days passed.
Maybe weeks.
Time didn’t mean much to Leo anymore. Time was hunger. Time was night coming. Time was pain in his stomach and chest taking turns hurting him.
Sometimes he cried until he couldn’t breathe.
Sometimes he didn’t cry at all.
He survived on scraps—old bread, crushed cans, leftovers people threw away.
He stopped talking. When he tried, fear closed his throat.
So he stayed silent.
Like the house.
The hardest part was waiting.
Every day, he waited.
For footsteps he knew.
For his mother’s hands.
For someone to call his name.
Instead, he heard rats in the walls.
Still, he never left.
Because leaving meant accepting they were gone.
Then one week, everything changed.
A truck arrived next door.
The sound was loud.
Too loud.
Leo woke up in panic, clutching his can, crawling into the darkest corner.