Waken

She turned over in her sleep, and the noise of it woke me from my halfsleep. How long had I been out? I checked my watch; half an hour. Thirty minutes longer than I should've been gone. I rubbed my sleepy eyes with my left hand, the right still around the rifle in my lap. I glanced up at her sleeping form, sprawled on my bed. She was the porcelain angel from a Christmas tree given flesh, so pristine she looked. The edges of her shape set apart from the dreariness of her surroundings.
She moved slightly. A low moan escaped her lips. Bad dreams. She whispered for her papa. An inaudible sigh from deep in my chest. She was safe for now, that I could take solace in.
The door knocked.
I rise from the chair and silently creep to the door. Gun in my hands, I took a quick look through the peephole. I see three men in dark suits I don't know, and answer the door. A bullet bursts outside just slower than sound. I hear one of the men hit the hallway floor. No following noise confirms the kill. The remaining give me an answer of their own, and dozens of gunshots perforate my entranceway. A place where I do not stand.
In the seconds it takes me to get back to the bedroom, she's already awake. Without a word she hopped on my back and we were out the window, out of reach.