Whisper

Prologue

I gasp for air, desperate to fill my lungs.

My left hand snakes to my neck, my fingers grazing against the rough surface of my skin. I inhale and exhale as though I've been desperate for air for hours and finally captured my first breath. My eyes stare ahead; wide, dark and isolated. Where am I?

I feel my body weigh down by gravity, finding no ability to lift myself. My hand remains on my neck as I take in my surroundings. The candles against the wall on my right radiates light within the room. The candle flickers on stone figures beside them, making it difficult to distinguish each sculpture. On my left, I find rows of benches along with multiple high windows and a large wooden door at the far end. I never been here before; but I know where I am. I'm inside a church.

The word church repeats itself in my mind as I search my memories. Why am I in the middle of a church? How did I get here? Why can't I remember anything? Forcing against gravity, I push myself up to a sitting position and swing my legs off the table, allowing them to hang. My left hand slumps onto the table, feeling my muscles ache. The doors of the church burst open; cold wind rushing in. All light evaporates and the darkness engulfs me. The entrance invites me into the light from outside.

Apart from the whispers of the wind, I hear my own heartbeat drumming deafeningly. The pit of my stomach aches in agony. The silence of the church doesn't help. If anything, the silence makes me feel lost, scared and vulnerable. I don't want to be here, I want to be home.

Gently, I push myself to the edge of the table, allowing my barefoot feet to touch the marble floor. Taking a long and deep breath, I stand. My knees buckle and I almost fall onto the ground as I grab onto the table. After allowing the twitching pain in my legs to ease, I attempt to stand again. Successful, I take one step at a time, heading towards the welcoming exit.

I walk into the isolated street. The fresh, crisp air brings shivers to my spine. The very feeling that someone is watching is intense and overwhelming. I find no one in sight. The small buildings across from me were closed. The streets are empty, soundless and dark.

The large clock tower's bell on my right erupt reverberating. I press my hands over my ears, easing the sudden pain to my ears. I look at the clock which reads midnight.

I couldn't determine where I am. I recognise the town as Havenwood – the small town I moved to only yesterday. But what part of Havenwood? I don't know. I need to call dad. Before I reach for my phone, I stop. Dad would only ask questions, to which I have no answers. If I called Lily, she would ask questions to. She would even tell dad. But it didn't matter. I'm secluded in some location I don't recognise with no one around. I reach for my pocket to touch my metallic phone to only feel nothing but the fabric of my jeans. My heart beat quickens as I search my other pockets for my phone. However, all were empty.

My eyes roam my surroundings for the second time. My feet move on their own accord to the centre of the intersection beside the clock tower. I ignore the pain my feet endure on the gravel road. I stop as I stare down each of the three streets. Which way is home? I only came here yesterday. When was the last time I came here? It was yesterday. We were driving home. I close my eyes. We drove past this place. I remember seeing the clock tower, the stores and people walking down these footpaths.

This place was lively, erupted with people. It was bright and friendly. I wouldn't have recognised this place if it weren't for the clock tower. I'm not in that lively town; instead, I'm standing in the centre of a ghost town.

I stare down the road between the clock tower and the church. The road leads into darkness. I never walked in the dark by myself before. I feel another gush of the chilly wind pushing against me, warning me not to go down this street. Pushing my fear aside, I force myself to walk in that direction.

I don't know how long I've been walking for. My legs are beginning to feel numb due to the coldness and my arms are shivering. The thin material of my pyjamas is useless against this weather. I wrap my arms arounds myself, hoping my own body heat will keep me warm until I get home. I take the route my memory remembers. At times, my memory blanks and can't remember the direction. I ultimately followed my gut; even though my gut feeling is rarely accurate. But I had no choice.

By the time I reach a street I recall, relief washes over me knowing I'm heading the right direction. The closer I get, my heart beat reaches its normal pace. I wonder if Dad, Lily or even Brian knows that I'm not home. I picture them all standing on our front porch, waiting for me. I don't care if I get into trouble. I can't remember how I got to the church. If they know I'm not home, maybe they could explain how I woke up in the church at midnight.

But no one is waiting for me at the front porch. I stand a good distance away from the porch, ignoring the darkness of the woods behind me. No house lights are on. Everyone must be asleep. I approach my new home. I grab the hidden spare key in the azalea bush near the porch and quietly open the door. After locking the door, I sneak up the stairs.

I bite my bottom lip to each sound I create. I reach the top and stare down the hall and at dad and Lily's bedroom door. Their lights are off. I hear no movement, no sign of consciousness. I head to my bedroom. The moment I place my hand on the door knob, I feel safe. All thoughts regarding the past few hours instantly disappear, as though it never happened. As though it's all a dream; a nightmare that I already forgotten about. I turn the knob and enter my room.

I lean against my closed door, feeling my heart relax. I look at my analogue clock that sits on my bedside table and read the date. It's three o'clock in the morning. I look at the small two-digit number within the clock and the month written on the other side of the centre. It's the twenty-first of September. Instantly, the warmth of my home replaces with cold. It's been three days since I moved here. It's three whole days I cannot recall. All memory is gone, like I skipped three days of my life. I can't find a reasonable explanation to excuse what happened to me that would make sense. Did I sneak out? If I did, why? Why did I leave? I never sneak out, so what made this night different? Better yet, why did I go to the church?

I capture my own reflection from the mirror in the corner of my room and feel my heart drop. My barefoot is dirty from the dry mud, dry scratches and blisters from walking for so long without shoes. My black jeans have several white and brown stains. My eyes reach my favourite white blouse, which is one I can no longer recognise. It's no longer pure white. The collar of the blouse is drenched in a dark red liquid. The red appears like paint has been dripping from my collar towards the centre of my blouse. I stare at the collar, noticing patches of white. But then, my eyes reach my neck.

My neck is faded red. A dark, thin red line encircles my neck, the skin surrounding the line is severely bruised. My hand reaches to my neck and feel the roughness of the skin. Instantly, my mind flashes back to the same ceiling of the church. However, this time, the view is partially covered by a dark outline of a hand, wearing black glove and holding a metal knife. As quick as it blocks my view, the knife comes down and I feel the blade slice against the skin of my neck.

I gasp, trying to capture as much air as I can. The ceiling of the church disappears and my view becomes open to my reflection, holding tightly onto my skin. The pain disappears, realising it is only a memory. A memory of my own death.

Idied. Yet somehow, I'm still alive.     

[a/n: Here is the prologue of my new story! Tell me how you like it so far? Any critics are always welcomed. Your comments are greatly appreciated and they help me whether I need to do better or what I'm doing so far is good. Your opinions are very important to me so please comment and vote!

This is the first time I am writing a supernatural/action story so it might be a little edgy, but I am very excited to write this. Thanks for reading this prologue and I hope you enjoyed it.]