Amara sinks lower into the seat, glancing from one window to the next. Apart from the dog that can be heard barking in the distance, the street is very quiet. After some time, she begins to worry, assuming the worst could be happening in the house. She jumps out of the car and hurries across the street. As she gets closer to the house, the anxiety returns, but she forces herself to be brave. She finds it hard to climb over the wall and loses her footing a few times. Eventually, she figures out how to place her feet between the cobblestones and hoist herself up.

Amara tumbles into the backyard. She quickly finds her feet and sneaks closer to the house. The house is larger than she had ever imagined, with large windows stretching across the side of the house. The moon casts a hazy glow over the yard, allowing her to spot a broken window towards the back of the house. There is a metal bin placed under the window and, as she draws closer to it, she realises that the opening is big enough to squeeze through. Amara climbs up, flicks away the glass shards from the windowsill, and crawls through. She lowers herself onto a sink before she jumps down. It is even darker inside but she realises she is in the kitchen by the outline of the furniture surrounding her.

“Zolani!” Amara whispers, as she navigates to the hallway.

There are large picture frames hanging on the wall, and Amara can barely make out the vague figures of a family. Although she cannot see their faces, she knows they are happy. As she is looking through the frames, she suddenly hears a thump echo deep in the house.

“Zol, where are you?” she calls, a little more desperate.

A few more thumps ring through the house. Amara hurries towards the source of the noise. The house is a maze but she eventually makes it to the room she believes the commotion is coming from. She can tell that there are people inside by the faint whispers and light spilling out of the room.

Amara walks into the bedroom to find a disturbing scene. Zolani stands with his arm around a young woman’s neck, his other hand pressing a kitchen knife to her throat. An older man kneels on the far end of the room with his hands clasped together, as though he is praying.

“We don’t have any money in the house,” the old man pleads.

Although he has aged, Amara instantly recognises him as ‘the rich man’.

“I haven’t had any money in a long time,” the old man continues, “I lost my business a few years back. I don’t know what anybody has told you but we don’t have anything valuable to give you.”

“Don’t lie to me!” Zolani growls.

“I only have the car in the garage. You can take it but please don’t hurt my daughter.”

When Zolani finally notices Amara, his eyes nearly pop out of his head. His frustration is quickly replaced by rage.

“Are you stupid?!” he spits, “Why aren’t you in the car? Who is keeping watch out there?”

“You disappeared for a really long time,” she says, apologetically, “I thought something bad happened to you.”

“How did you even get in the house?” he asks.

“The same way you got in, through the window” she says, feeling proud of herself.

“Yoh, Amara! Amara!” He takes a deep breath to calm himself, “Well there is nothing in this house. These people are dirt poor.”

“I told you, it was a long time ago, you didn’t listen.”

“Don’t get smart with me,” he threatens. “You said he was practically throwing money around.”

As Zolani is talking, the old man shifts his attention to Amara and stares at her in awe. After what seems like an eternity, he realises why she looks so familiar. “Amara?” he finally gasps.

Amara and Zolani cease their argument and everybody in the room turns to the old man.

“Is that really you? Amara?” The old man is a little more confident this time.

“Oh hell no! Nooo!” Zolani panics.

“You look just like your mother,” the old man proclaims.

“You’ve gone and shown them your face! You’ve messed everything up!” Zolani shouts at Amara.“I am not sticking around for this!”

Zolani releases the young woman and shoves her away from him. The young woman trips over her feet and falls over. Zolani takes off running. He pushes past Amara at the door and sprints down the hallway.

“Somebody call the police!” the old man shouts, as he scrambles to his feet.

The young woman crawls across the room to retrieve a cell phone from the bedside table. Her fingers tremble as she dials. Amara watches as the old man dashes out the room after Zolani. A few minutes later, she hears tires screeching outside.

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