Retaliation

A week has passed since the prince vanished, leaving behind only the memory of his curiosity and unsettling scent. Since that morning, not one soldier acknowledged me. Their indifference was a blessing. The silence and space it has given me have allowed me the time to breathe, to think, and to recover.

I’ve seen what human soldiers can do when they’re bored. I’ve seen the smirks that precede cruelty, the glint in a human eye just before they take pleasure in breaking something. In this way, the aliens haven’t been worse. Not yet. And that says something. Maybe there is a civilized part of them.

I heard a disturbance outside in the courtyard this morning. Curiosity pushed me to the door, and I slowly peeked my head out to see what was going on.

Today became the worst day I’ve had since being trapped here.

Among the crowd of newcomers huddled in the courtyard, I saw them. My family. My neighbors. Familiar faces I'd never expected to see in this nightmare. My heart sank like a stone. And then, my nephew saw me.

He screamed my name and ran toward me with arms outstretched, a smile breaking through his fear.

Then his head flew across the courtyard.

Terror ripped through me as I collapsed, screaming. I couldn’t stop. My body went limp. Two of my new roommates pulled me back into the office building, dragging me away as I wailed, choking on the horror.

“He was eight years old,” I kept repeating. “He didn’t know.”

And then it hit me.

This wasn’t random.

This was retaliation for the prince noticing me.

I haven’t moved from the floor since.

The silence feels different, now heavier. Like it's watching me. Like it’s waiting.

If this were a message, I received it loud and clear.

But now I have questions that the silence can’t answer. Why me? What did the prince see? And how many more will die because of it?