The Hidden Runaway

Part Six. Arabella.

It was dark.

So dark, and cold. Why was it cold?

Dad never let the car get so cold. He always put the heater on to keep me warm. Even if mum complained.

Why was it so cold? Why was I wet?

I groaned, trying to sit up. Up? Wasn't I already sitting up? Ouch. I stopped, moving hurt. Bad. Why did it hurt so much? My leg ached and the arm I'd used to push myself up could barely support me. "Mum? Dad?" I called out, but no words came. None that I could hear anyway, not over; oh God. Was that screaming?

"No! I won't let you take her!" The voice shrieked. "I don't care! She's not yours! She was never yours! She's mine, she always will be mine!"

"Alexandra! It's okay. Shh!" Another voice pleaded with her. "Stop fighting, please."

"He's right Alexandra. Resist us and we'll be left with no choice."

"To hell with no choice Elijah. You've always had a choice. You don't need to kill me. We were friends once, you know?" The first voice continued.

Mum?

Why was this taking so long for me? Why was I so confused? That was my mum, my mother was out there getting threatened by some guy.

"Mum?" I called out, forcing my eyes open. My vision blurred red, and I immediately lifted my hand to wipe the obstruction from my face, pleased as my vision cleared, at least until I saw the red stain now covering the back of my hand. It took a moment to process it, for a split second I was baffled at how I'd gotten port wine jelly over my hands, until the logical explanation found me. It wasn't port wine jelly, or even grape jelly. It was blood. My blood, warm and wet, fresh from my vein, crimson blood. Choking back the scream that gurgled in my throat, I lifted my other hand, again wiping at my face only to find more blood smeared across it. I was definitely bleeding.

I was bleeding. But why didn't my head hurt? Surely if I was losing this much blood I should feel something, an ache, a throbbing pain, a stabbing? Why didn't I feel it? Was this shock? I frowned, lifting my gaze again. This time, instead of blood, I was greeted by the harsh twisted metal of the car frame.

I never knew it could bend in such a way, how hard had we been hit? The roof above me was dented inwards, the paint peeling where it was indented. The support beams were twisted and contorted like taffy and further in, where the sunroof had been, was nothing more than an opening to the morning sky above. No, there was something more, broken glass bordered the frame, jagged and haphazardly poking out from what remained of the rubber border. I dropped my gaze to my lap that was scattered with broken glass. It was everywhere, shattered, glass strewn across the seats and floor of the car, what was left of the car anyway. How were they, how was I alive if the car looked like this?

"I know we were friends, you don't think that made your betrayal hurt that much more Alexa?" 

"Don't call me that."

"You're right. The Alexa I knew wouldn't have stolen her best friend's kid."

I groaned, rolling my shoulder back with a wince. It didn't move right, instead, I favoured my left, reaching down to pop the seat belt out of its clip. As it popped out, I coughed and the taste of copper hit my tongue. Great. More blood. Using my legs, I pushed myself up, climbing out of the backseat and crawling into the front of the cab towards the open door. It was only then that I could see the scene unfolding before me.

I froze.

My father was being held at gunpoint by one man and my mother was standing in front of another, a gun aimed at her chest.

"What the hell?" I stammered, and quickly regretted it when all eyes turned to me.

After that, things moved too quickly. My mother, sensing their distraction lunged for the man holding the gun. I thought she'd fallen in her attempts until I saw her land, her body distorted, and a puddle of blood quickly forming around her limp body.

At that moment, I screamed. A horrific blood curdling scream. I didn't know how we were still alone, how no one else had heard the terrible commotion. I didn't understand why we'd crashed, why these people were here, why they'd killed her. My mother. They killed my mother.

I could feel my heart racing in my chest, the harsh rise and fall as my lungs sought to inhale the air around me. The pain from my injuries subsided, replaced by a sudden shooting pain throughout the entirety of my body. A heavy pressure that left me feeling as if I was about to explode. My skin felt as if it was being pierced by a thousand needles and itched something fierce. My eyes glancing down saw only sprouting fur where my once pale skin had been. I screamed, but it was not my voice that left me. It was not a scream, but a howl. A howl, and moments later I was outside of the car, standing beside my dying mothers body.

"My little wolf." She murmured, reaching out to touch me as the life left her ocean green eyes.

I yelped, turning to look at my father, he was sobbing on his knees on the ground and the man behind him was tying his wrists behind his back. I went to move towards him when I saw it, my reflection in the silver van across from me. The figure reflected moved with me, but it wasn't me, it couldn't be.

The figure reflected was a grey wolf with bright blue eyes. My bright blue eyes. The wolf staring at me was me.

I screamed, and it all went black as I collapsed.