A small part of Amaya told her something was off. Her instincts were screaming at her to turn around and leave.

She shrugged off the feeling. It was nothing. She told herself. She had no reason to be afraid, no reason to be suspicious. This was just her uncle and he wouldn't do anything to hurt her.

As she walked behind him, she saw him look over his shoulder ever so slightly, a small grin tugging at the corner of his thin lips. It only lasted for a couple of seconds but it was enough to make Amaya shudder.

She was reminded of all those times at the dinner table when they were having meals - her overweight aunt and her two irritable children, and of course, Uncle Simon. 

When he was sure his wife wasn't looking, he would sneak a glance at Amaya, licking his lips. As usual, Amaya pretended not to notice. She was thirteen years old, maybe she was simply misinterpreting those things.

Amaya hated the weekends she had to spend at her Aunt's place, but it was the only way her widowed mother could go to work without worrying about her only child.

“Follow me, I want to show you something,” her Uncle said to her once. Then, she was very wary of the tall, balding man with a perversive smile. Why was he walking into his bedroom?

Amaya's mother had warned her to never follow a man into his bedroom. In fact, she had said to never be alone with one, but it couldn't be helped. Aunt Ruth had gone to market and her two cousins were at camp, leaving her alone with dear Uncle Simon. Nevertheless, she had followed him. 

His bedroom door opened with a creak, the hinges protesting from years of neglect. Amaya stood at the door frame, just a little bit inside and a just little bit outside - for easy escape.

Her uncle didn't even notice. Without turning to look at her, which was quite a feat in itself, he walked over to his part of the bed and pulled out a camera from the drawer. She could tell it was his side because of how neat the place was. Her aunt never had the patience for such a thing. Small movements left her gasping and sweating, fighting for her life. No, she left the tidying up to her meticulous husband, the husband who was now presenting a very sleek camera to a surprised Amaya.

She took it carefully, wondering if this was some sort of trick.

“I heard you like photography," he explained. She did in fact enjoy it and had always wanted a camera of her own.

That was two weeks ago.

Today, Uncle Simon had walked up to her again in the living room where she was watching a cartoon on their large television.

“Come with me.” He said simply.

She promptly obeyed, standing up and trailing behind him. She half expected to receive another gift. Maybe a long range lens. She had read about those online. Apparently, they made all your pictures better and easier too. It would go very nicely with her new camera.

That was when she saw the grin - the little over-the-shoulder sneak peek. She had seen grins like that in her cartoons whenever the character was up to no good. It had always made her laugh, but now seeing it directed at her left a bad taste in her mouth.

Uncle Simon has no reason to hurt me. Amaya repeated to herself over and over like a mantra. He's just trying to give me another gift.

She stepped into the bedroom after the lanky figure, too preoccupied with convincing herself that she didn't hear the door shut firmly behind her.

Only when the click of the locks echoed in the sparsely furnished bedroom did she look up, but it was too late.

Uncle Simon was already behind her.