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Papa is the most handsome, Uncle Albert is the least, so that puts Uncle Anatoly right in the middle. He’s also funny and has made cracking jokes his entire personality.

Not lately, though.

In the past few months, it looks as if life has been sucked out of him and left a soulless skeleton in its wake.

I’ve noticed some changes in Uncle Albert, too. He usually has time to indulge us in playing or assembling something we buy, but not lately.

Only Papa is an unchanging anchor, short of some dark circles because he’s been spending a lot of time in the office lately.

“What have you decided?” Uncle Anatoly asks in a low voice.

“This is not the time,” Uncle Albert whispers back.

“You shut up!” Uncle Anatoly hisses. “We should’ve stopped this before it got to this stage, but no, we had to hold on to a sinking fucking ship—”

Without letting me go, Papa reaches out his free hand and squeezes his shoulder.

“Not another word, Anatoly. This is neither the time nor the place. I need you to get yourself together. Go sit beside your wife and children and be an Ivanov. Control that turbulent energy of yours and calm the fuck down.”

Shivers break on my skin even though the words aren’t directed at me. This…is the first time I’ve heard Papa be so…insensitive.

It’s clear that Uncle Anatoly is suffering with something, but instead of offering him any form of comfort, Papa all but humiliated him. No, maybe humiliating is a strong word. He scolded him.

In no time, a smile lifts Papa’s lips, and it’s like he’s flipped a switch to return back to the father I know. “We’ll talk after dinner.”

Uncle Anatoly glares at both of them. “We’re in immediate danger, and all you care about is a stupid fucking dinner?”

He shakes his head and, without waiting for an answer, walks to his wife, then flops down beside her while wearing a solemn expression.

“Never mind your uncle Anatoly, Sashenka. He’s just tired.” Papa kisses the top of my head. “Go take your seat.”

I smooch his cheek and then trudge toward my chair. When a leg trips me and I nearly fall, Erik’s and Eduard’s shoulders shake with suppressed laughter.

Oh, you want to play?

I push Erik’s chair and both of them almost tumble to the ground.

A cane taps on the ground, and I straighten. Babushka, who’s at the head of the table, narrows her eyes on me and I smile and then sit beside the twins. These bastards want to see me die by our grandmother’s cane.

After everyone is seated, Babushka nods at the head maid, who’s as stoic as she is, and the lady motions to the rest of the staff to remove the cloches.

Sounds of appreciation fill the room as countless smells tickle our noses. There are different types of soup, a giant roasted lamb, and some of the vegetables are shaped like Christmas trees and stars.

We start eating, and chatter echoes around us. Erik and Eduard try to annoy me, but I kick and pinch them underneath the table until they whine out loud. This time, they’re the ones who get Babushka’s stare of disapproval.

Papa’s chief of security rushes inside the hall, his face contorted with exertion. This is the first time I’ve seen him distressed and on edge.

Papa’s harsh gaze turns to him. “Didn’t I tell you not to bother us during family dinners?”

“This is an emergency, sir. The central security system was disabled, and I’m getting no updates from the guards stationed outside—”

His words cut off when a red laser dot appears on his forehead, and then it’s blown to bits. Blood splashes on the Christmas decorations and the food in front of two of my cousins as the man drops with a thud.

A scream rips from somewhere in the room, but I can’t look away from the man. When I finally lift my gaze, I find small red dots on Mama’s forehead, chest, and stomach. Papa’s, too.

Everyone has those laser dots.

Oh, no.

No.

Harsh footsteps echo outside, sounding as if they’re coming from underground. No, maybe they’re coming from a parallel universe.

My hopeful thoughts are slaughtered when countless men spill inside the dining room.

They’re dressed in black combat gear, heavy boots, and thick helmets, their faces hidden with balaclavas, and are carrying long rifles that are slung across their chests.

The only time I’ve seen anything like this was in a movie about the Second World War.

I hated that movie. It was all about the siege, young men dying, and rotting cadavers in the street.

It was about the worst time for humanity, where greed and power killed millions and millions of innocent people.

Why does this feel like I’m in that time?

“Everyone down!!” Papa yells and clutches Mama by the nape, but before he can push her to the floor, blood explodes on his chest, and he looks at me even as his eyes start to roll back.

Mama shrieks, but it’s cut off when half of her head is blown away.

I scream and scream and scream, but my voice isn’t heard in the middle of the shooting and other horrified shrieks. The soldiers are like robots, eliminating one person after the other.

Uncle Anatoly grabs his pregnant wife and starts to pull her toward him, but she’s hit in her belly. He retrieves his gun and screams as he fires and empties it without any aim or sense of direction. Before he can finish, he’s shot in the back and falls in his dead wife's pool of blood.

Pop.

Pop.

Pop.

All of a sudden, everything turns black.

The screams, wails, and raw shrieks don’t disappear, though. Many things don’t.

The gunshots.

The tangy stench of blood.

The wails and sobs.

The infants’ cries.

The women’s terrified yells.

I think it’s a nightmare, which is why I’m not seeing anything, but then, I realize I’ve been pushed under the table, facedown, on the carpet. Slowly, I lift my head.

“Shh.” Erik places a shaky hand over my mouth, tears clinging to his eyelashes. “Stop screaming…Sasha, please…”

I breathe against his palm. I’m not sure, but I think I’ve been screaming ever since I saw my parents being killed.

“It’s okay,” Erik whispers even as he trembles, his teary eyes filling with unprecedented terror.

Did he also witness his parents being murdered? Did he…where’s Eduard? Anton?

I latch onto Erik’s hand with both of mine, and he hugs me to his chest. Eduard is shielding us both, I realize, and so are Timur and Gavriil—Uncle Albert’s sons. They’re circling us as Erik and I curl on the ground together, crammed in the small space between the table and the wall.

My fingers tighten around Erik’s back. We shake against each other, hiding our faces in one another’s damp necks. Our hearts beat so loud, I feel like they’ll explode any second. My eyes are shut so tightly that they hurt.

A weight falls on me, and I cry, jerking violently against Erik. Something hot trickles down my head and face, and I open my eyes a little.

Blood drenches my soft pink dress and the top of Erik’s head, his cheeks, and his neck.

I stare up, and my mouth opens when I see Eduard’s and Timur’s lifeless eyes.

Holes riddle their chests, and half of Timur’s face is gone.

Gavriil is also clutching his middle and screaming as blood pours out of him.

“No…” Erik sobs, reaching for his twin.

He releases me, his face ashen, and tears streak down the blood on his cheeks.

“Erik…no…don’t…don’t go…” I desperately hold onto his wrist with my unsteady hand. If he sits up, they’ll know he’s alive—

His body jerks back, and I’m about to scream, but he falls on top of me. The weight of his lifeless body suffocates me and I stop breathing.

For a moment, I think I was hit, too.

But if I were, would I still hear the gunshots? Would I feel the blood that’s soaking me?

The shrieks and screams have died down, but the gunshots haven’t. They keep going on and on and on .

All I can do is tremble and cry silently while covered by my dead cousins and a pool of blood.

At this moment, all I wish for is death.

I wish and wish…

But it never comes.