Inside the kitchen, my father put his hand on the glass door, ready to slide it open and end the nightmare.

I caught his eye through the glass. I gave him a microscopic, subtle shake of my head. No.

The chanting grew deafening, bouncing off the brick walls of the house, a tidal wave of pressure demanding my surrender.

I took a slow, shuddering breath. I closed my eyes, summoning every ounce of courage I’d spent twelve years hoarding in the dark. I slowly stood up from the patio chair.

My hands dropped to my waist, my trembling fingers gripping the thick cotton knot of my bathrobe belt.

I stepped out of the shadows of the awning and into the blinding, unforgiving sunlight, knowing that in exactly five seconds, the world as they all knew it was going to end…