Fire. Smoke. Ash. Screams. Cries of terror. The stench of burning flesh. It all consumed him as the men in sleek navy uniforms watched with interest gleaming in their eyes. The crackling of flames, the frantic thrashing of his father, mother, and sister as they tried to fight against the blaze that wreathed their bodies, burning them all alive. It was all too much. He wanted to save them. He wanted to kill those uniformed men. He wanted to run away. But he couldn't. All he could do was watch as the fire consumed his family.
The men had appeared without warning, barging down their door and shouting with their guns aimed at whatever moved and rounded up his family into the kitchen. By some miracle, they had missed or never knew of him. He hid in a closet, watching through a crack in the door as the three uniformed men forced his father, mother, and sister together.
The men accused his father of treason against Marley, conspiracy to overthrow the government, and attempted rebellion. "For your crimes," the leader of the men had stated, ignoring the crying family before him. "You have been sentenced to death. Your family is to die alongside you, as they too bear the responsibility for your actions against glorious Marley and her people."
He stopped breathing as the leader of the men stopped speaking, his eyes wide open and terror on his face as he listened to his family's death sentence being ordered out as though it was the simplest of things. All the while his family shouted against them, their voices tolling through the air.
"You can't do this!" His father shouted at the three men, his face filled with defiance and terror. "You have no evidence! I demand a trial, not this sham!"
"You can't blame her for the crimes of her father; she's only a child. Please! Just her. Let her go, please! Take us instead. I'll do anything," his mother screamed out, tears running down her face as she begged them, falling to her knees in desperation with her hands clasped together in prayer for the uniformed men.
All the while his sister bawled. She didn't even know what was going on. She was scared, all the shouting and screaming, just like him, was too much for her to bear. He could tell that all as he watched on from behind the cupboard door, not daring to make a sound, not daring to even move.
Whilst his family begged for their lives, two of the men aimed their rifles at his family, silencing them completely. But they did not fire. They stayed still, both eyeing up the third man, seemingly awaiting the order to shoot. But the third man did not say anything, instead, he walked over to one of the tables near him and picked up an oil can, staring at it intently for a moment. The man then walked over to his family, who remained silent and unmoving in the face of the rifles.
The leader of the uniformed men poured oil over each of them, holding it over each of their heads as the liquid seeped down from their heads and onto their clothes. He poured it until even the dregs of the pot had been emptied, drenching all three of them in the thick substance. His family did not move nor try to stop them, all three eyeing the rifles trained directly at them.
Then his parents begged for mercy again, begging for their child's life right up till he pulled out a small box from his jacket pocket. From across the room, he could not read the writing on the box, but the fear in his parent's eyes was enough to tell him what it was. The leader of the men withdrew a small stick from the box, holding it in front of his silent parents for a moment, letting them look their doom in the eyes.
Within the blink of an eye, the man struck the match across the side of the box, once more drawing screams from his parents, who now more than ever begged for their lives beneath the glow of the flame. The leader of the men did not seem to even register them, ignoring their pleas before speaking to his parents for a final time.
"You damned devils."
With those words, the man cast the matchstick onto his family, all of whom lurched back in fear as it fell. Time seemed to slow as it fell, drawing ever closer to them, their now inevitable doom was almost upon them.
The flame made contact with his father first, and within a second, the fire spread out across his clothes and flesh, searing and blackening them as it travelled across his body in a frenzy. It then lurched from one body to another, dancing from his father and then to his mother, and then to his sister. It consumed all of them within an instant, and then the screams began—those terrible screams.
His family collapsed to the floor, screaming and shouting in agony as the flames burnt away their clothes, hair, and skin. It lasted a lifetime, watching them struggle and thrash around on the ground, so desperate to fight away the insatiable blaze that now threatened to consume all three of them.
His eyes wide open, he took in the horror before him, unable to look away from the scene playing out in front of him. He couldn't believe this was happening. His father had spoken of overthrowing Marley once. Now he screamed and clawed at the floor in desperation, unable to speak a word.
All the while the three uniformed men had taken some steps back, placing themselves up against a wall. Their faces were not of shock nor horror, instead, they seemed interested, watching as his family were butchered in the most horrific of ways. The men waited, listening to his family's screams and watching on as their skin cracked and blackened and as they flailed around in terrible pain.
It seemed to last a lifetime. But one by one they stopped thrashing and screaming. His sister first, then his mother, and finally his father, all slumping to the floor whilst the flames consumed their deceased remains, scorching and cooking whatever was left of them. Only then did the men speak again, their voices cutting through the silence of the room.
"Job's done, we can go now. Plus this stench is beginning to get to me," the leader of the men said before walking towards the door without a care in the world. The two other uniformed men quickly followed, their eyes darting to the burnt out husks of his family. Once they left silence fell upon the room, but he dared not move. He dared not breathe. He dared not even blink.
If he did the men might hear him, and drag him to his family so that he too could share their fate. Wreathed in flames and screaming for his life. So he waited, staring out of the cupboard door and right at his family's unmoving bodies, smoke rising from them slowly.
After some time passed he finally dared to breathe again, taking shaky gulps of air down as he whimpered quietly. He could not move. He did not want to move. And so he remained, stuck in that cupboard for a lifetime, awaiting his own doom.
But soon he heard footsteps once more. Had the men returned for him? He froze up once more, not breathing, not blinking, not daring to move a millimetre. However, the door opened softly this time, and rather than running into the house shouting with guns raised high, the person at the door moved slowly, each step echoing throughout his silent home.
The person did not speak as they approached the kitchen, but he could hear their slow and steady breath, almost as though they were preparing themselves for the worst. The steps were like a drum beat, coming ever closer. Would this be his end? Who had come for him?
The door to the kitchen opened, creaking slowly. As it opened fully the person took in a deep breath, remaining still for a moment before speaking out into the room, his voice shaking with each word.
"Oh god. What have they done?"
The person moved forward slowly, but he could not see them still. Each step they took was even slower than before, drawing ever closer to the bodies of his family. As the person finally came into view he could confirm that they were not one of the uniformed men. They were a man, roughly the same age as his father and wore scraggy and common clothes.
The man finally reached the bodies of his family, kneeling down the man reached out his hand, almost as if to make sure what he was seeing was real, but at the last moment pulled back, the disgust and horror visible on his face. The man stared at the bodies for some time, all the while he watched on with bated breath. Should he dare move?
Before he could make the choice the man looked over in his direction, his eyes wide open with shock.
The man walked over gradually, whispering softly to him. But he did not hear the words. He just stared on with terror as the man approached him. The man opened the door to the cupboard slowly, careful not to frighten him. Only then did he hear his words
"It's okay Eren. I am. I was a friend of your father. I'll take you away from here. You do not need to be afraid anymore."
The man hoisted him up out of the cupboard and into his arms, holding him as he began sobbing silently into his shoulder, tears pouring down uncontrollably. He didn't even notice as they began to walk out of the kitchen and then out of the house, leaving the building forever.
Whilst they walked outside, quickly getting further and further away from the place he had once called home, he noticed the stench was gone. The smell that had clung to the air for so long finally dissipated.
Only one thought filled his mind as they walked down the streets. One thought plagued him and rattled away in his head like a drum, endlessly beating away.
Revenge.