My Dark Secret

Prolouge*

"You may be dismissed once you write down your homework in your journals." Mr. Evans instructed in a firm tone. Looks like this week’s homework is Spanish, well that isn't too hard to do.

It’s officially the last day of school before winter break. Mom and Dad said that we can go shopping in the city tonight and get pizza from my favorite pizzeria.

“What’s shaking bacon?” my best friend Sarah said.

“This stupid uniform is what’s going to be shaking down the laundry chute.” I say gesturing to the stupid school uniform that we are forced to wear.

I really do wonder who in the hell came up with the idea of this uniform. With the disgusting vomit green and red on my knee length skirt, the scratchy black leggings, a see-through-when-wet white button up shirt, the asphalt black jumper vest with the school logo on the right breast, and the dull black flats. I mean do they have no sense of fashion?! It really sucks ass. I get it that this is a Christian school, but really, why make us all look like a bunch of old dolls in an antique store that nobody wants to buy.

“I agree, I mean for goodness sakes it’s winter here an absolutely freezing out, why do we have to wear skirts instead of pants. We wouldn’t get hypothermia as fast that way.” Sarah says putting her books into her bag.

“A bit over dramatic don’t cha’ think?”  I say with a laugh, also putting my books into my bag.

“Winter break here we come!” I say as soon as we step outside of the dammed school building.

I walk over to where our driver Charlie is parked, I am greeted with a good afternoon and a how's school going, the usual.

“I am so ready for this break.” I say throwing my purple backpack into the back seat and getting into the passenger seat.

“I am sure you are any homework?” he says putting the car in drive as I put on my seatbelt.

Charlie isn’t really our driver; he is my dad’s best friend and co-worker’s sectary slash assistant. He just picks me up from school and drops me off every day.

“Yeah, Spanish.” I say as he merges onto the highway.

“Well you know if ya’ need help I can help you, Spanish is my native language.” He says with a laugh.

“Yope I know, if I have questions I’ll ask you cos’ dad is awful at it.” I say with a smile.

“Okay, well we’re here. Be good kid and tell your parents I said hello.” He says as I got out of the car.

“Will do, thank you” I say waving as I ran up the steps to our house.

I reach down the front of my shirt and pull out my necklace that has my house key onto it. I put the key into the door to unlock it, but it is already unlocked.

That’s strange; it’s always locked even when we’re home.

I walk into the foyer and take off my parka and put it on the hook, I then grab my jumper and put that on. I walk down the hallway into the kitchen to see if mum or dad is in there. When I walk in, I’m greeted with silence, not that peaceful silence, but the one that you see in horror films just before the killer jumps out and slashes their head off or something.

I got an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Hello, anyone home” I yell out as I put my bag onto the counter.

Silence

Maybe dad is in his office, I walk down the hall to where is office is, I open the door with a “Hey….daddy?” He isn’t in there.

POP

CRASH

What in the hell was that?! That sounded like it came from upstairs.

I run up the stairs to the first floor I look down the hall to my left where my game room is, nothing. I look to my right where the fitness room is and my art studio room is, still nothing.

I wonder where that came from.

BANG

That sounded like it came from the second floor, what in the world is going on up there.

I run up the steps faster than lighting, I cautiously peek around the corner to hear some sort of shouting. It’s muffled so I really can’t make out what they are saying. All I can hear is: lousy…..good for nothing……pay for…….did.

My senses kick in and I know, just know something isn’t right. As quietly as I can, I run down the hall to my room and hit the silent panic button that pages 9-1-1.

I poke my head out of my bedroom door and look down the hall to find my parent’s bedroom door closed. I tiptoe down the hall and like a ninja kick the door open and stand to the side of wall with my back pressed against the wall. Just like my dad taught me so do to stay out of the line of fire.

After a few seconds I come from my hiding place and look into my parent’s room. There is blood everywhere, splattered on the walls, on the carpet, on the bed, there is ropes in there as well. I carefully step into the room and let out a whimper at the sight, my own mother is tied up in a chair, she has blood all over her, I don’t see her breathing so I know that the blood is hers. She’s dead….

I hold in the tears, I need to find my dad.

CRASH

That came from the library, I run into where they are. I find my dad on the floor tied up and being kicked repeatedly in the face and chest area by a really big, scruffy, burly looking guy.

“STOP!” I yell, now I when I realize that there isn’t just one guy, but 5 others with him.

They are all wearing black balaclavas over their faces, black army cargo pants, and black shirts. Two of them are holding semi-automatic AK 47’s with two.22 pistols strapped in shoulder holsters. Like the ones you see worn by the FBI under their jackets, and the others are holding full-automatic M4’s with a 9mm in a hip holster.  They look like the hulk, just not green, or partially naked, and they have guns, lot of them.  

They all stop what they are doing and look at me; I freeze in my spot my eyes widen at I take it all in, I look down to my dad, I see him mouth ‘I love you’ and a ‘run’ I turn around and do just that.

“Get the girl” one of the apes demands in a deep booming voice, I run down the hall. I run around the corner to the left hoping to be able to make it out the emergency exit where my throwing stars are hidden at. Just as I get around the corner a pair of big hands grabs my waist and pulls me back roughly.

So close but yet so far.

I try to scream but a damp cloth is clamped over my mouth. It is making it hard to breath. I struggle to try to get out of their grasp, I try to take a breath, and I instantly recognize what is making the cloth damp. It sure in hell isn’t water, I can tell you that. I remember my dad telling me about this stuff, CHCl3 also known as chloroform.

SHIT, okay think Grace, think. Remember what dad told you. 

Not helping at all, the edge of my vision is going black and things are spinning. The last thing I remember is falling to the ground, and I can faintly hear shouting in the background but it seems really, really far away.

This is it, I never thought I would go this way, but I guess fate has different ideas.  

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I hope you give this story a chance, it get's better as you go along, promise. Thanks, Caveri Kaleigh Leonard

The pic on the side is Grace when she was younger.

©2012