Why was she calling Daddy? I thought, feeling weak and confused. Jumping into bed, I pulled the blanket to my chest as a struggle took place outside my door. As Mummy’s screams evolved into bargaining, my thoughts went to my brother. Where’s Robin? I watched in horror as my door-knob twisted, left, then right, before finally engaging in the mechanism. It opened with a click. I drew my knees to my chest. My heart was hammering hard, a rush of blood pulsating in my ears.

‘What’s going on up there?’ Grandad’s voice rose from downstairs for a second time. The movement behind my door stilled and the door was pressed shut. It was followed by the thump, thump, thump of a steady descent down the stairs.

‘He’s got a gun!’ Mummy screamed, and I pinched my arm hard. This had to be a nightmare. It couldn’t be real. But this wasn’t a nightmare I woke up from. It was a nightmare I woke up to.

The rational part of my mind remembered that Daddy had been cleaning his shotgun. Maybe Mummy was upset because it went off by accident. But where? In Robin’s room? Not my little girl, she had screamed. My teeth were chattering now, a sudden sob erupting in my throat as realisation dawned. Daddy didn’t have accidents when it came to his gun. Climbing out of bed, I forced one foot in front of the other as I returned to the door and pressed my ear against the wood. I recoiled as another crack of gunfire shook the walls of the house. Downstairs, Granny screamed something about calling the police. Her words were killed by another deafening crack. Thunder. It was relentless. My legs weakened as my world collapsed around me. Then silence.

No, I squeaked. My eyes were blurry with tears, every instinct telling me to hide. But I needed to get to Robin before Daddy did. My hands felt like jelly as I twisted the door-knob. The door opened a crack, and I shrieked as I was met with Mummy’s tear-stained face.

‘Shhh.’ Her breath trembled as she placed a hand on my mouth. Her skin was cold, her face ashen. I nodded in understanding and she released her grip. ‘Hurry,’ she whispered, guiding me by the elbow. I craned my neck as we padded past Robin’s room. His door was open an inch, but I couldn’t see all the way in. Part of me didn’t want to.

‘Here,’ Mummy whispered, leading me to the antique wardrobe in the corner of her bedroom. ‘Hide in here and don’t make a sound, do you hear me? No matter who calls.’ Her hands trembled as she pushed my hair off my face. ‘Wait for the police. They’re on their way.’

‘I can’t do it,’ I cried. ‘I can’t … Please. Mummy … don’t leave me.’