That same night, when I received the revelation from my adoptive parents that they were not my biological family, something unimaginable happened.
The atmosphere was tense; we were just about to sit down for dinner when we suddenly heard a piercing gunshot that sent shivers down our spines. Panic quickly filled the room, and I heard my adoptive mother, Alice, whisper in a hushed tone, "They're here." Sensing the urgency, I immediately asked, "Who are they, Mom?" She shushed me gently, her eyes filled with fear.
In a matter of seconds, Alice swiftly took hold of me and guided me into the bathroom, where she unveiled a hidden compartment within the table. With trembling hands, she urged me to squeeze myself inside. From the narrow opening, my heart pounding with trepidation, I witnessed my parents, armed with powerful guns I never knew they possessed, firing shots into the darkness. The sound of gunshots grew louder and louder, and I could feel them reverberating through my trembling body. Amongst the chaos, I overheard the voice of a man demanding, "Search for the kid!"
Fear overwhelmed me, and my mind raced with questions. Why were they after me? Who were they? And most importantly, was my mom going to be okay? Despite my intense desire to help her, Alice motioned for me to stay hidden, her eyes closing gently as she succumbed to her injuries, she was shot. It was a devastating moment, but I knew I had to honor her sacrifice.
Suddenly, my adoptive father appeared, his face etched with determination. He swiftly lifted me off the ground and led me towards a secret door that opened up to the outside world. As he handed me a bag, he whispered urgently, "You'll find all the information about your parents here. We love you, daughter." Tears welled up in my eyes as I desperately sought answers, asking him about what was happening and who "they" were. However, before he could respond, a voice echoed in the distance, signaling the imminent arrival of danger.
In a split second, my father urged me to run, emphasizing the urgency in his voice, "Run, Diana, run! Quick! Run!" My heart pounding, I sprinted as fast as my legs could carry me. Glancing back, I saw my father, lying on the ground wounded, his strength fading away. With tears streaming down my face, I fought the urge to turn back and rushed forward, feeling an imminent sense of danger.
But just as all hope seemed lost, a car appeared seemingly out of nowhere. I caught sight of a beautiful young woman beckoning me urgently. Though her words were foreign, my French lessons came to my rescue, and I understood her plea to "enter vite." Without hesitation, I jumped into the car, my heart pounding with adrenaline and gratitude.