You're Next

Your Next

© 2014

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Cold air stung my cheeks. Cold air filled my lungs. I gasped for air as I ran down the dark road, following a black van. My legs felt weak, kind of like dried out twigs from a lifeless tree. My wobbly legs couldn't take all the pressure and aching feeling from running for so long. I could only take long distances in such a short time, such a short time... But this distance wasn't enough. I needed to step up my pace. I needed to get to my Mom. I needed to save her. I couldn't let her disappear. I couldn't let her vanish. I couldn't be alone. I hadn't even noticed it when I collapsed onto the hard gravel path.

From the distance, I saw someone coming out of the forest I feared for my whole life. I couldn't make out how they looked because of the shadows cascading over their body. I was crawling away ever so slowly, restricting myself from inhaling or exhaling. My legs felt as if they couldn't even work anymore. The person came out of the forest, and that's when I saw him. This boy looked evil and rude.. He had pale skin and piercing green pools of eyes.

He stopped at my side, and knelt down so my face was literally 1 inch away from his. Normally, a person's breath is supposed to be warm against your skin. This guy's breath was cold against my skin. Colder than the winter air itself. He kept his eye contact with me, and spoke slow and coldly, but loud and clear. "You're next," before plunging his silver dagger into my heart. My screams blended in with the howling and strong winds, before life fled from my body and my eyes slowly drooped closed. The green haunting eyes stared at me, happy. Just stared at me.

I shot up from my pillow like I was on fire. I'd rather not sleep than have to go through one of those horrifying dreams again. I hugged my legs and rocked back and forth in my bed as silent tears swept down my face. I made sure not to make any noise or my father would come in and beat me like he did the previous nights.

My hair was damp and matted the sides of my face. After a few minutes of calmness and silence, I pulled my covers off of me and slowly climbed out of bed. Once I got to the bathroom, I splashed cold water onto my face. I dared myself to look at myself into the mirror, not too satisfied at what I saw. Dark bags were under my puffy eyes. After splashing my face with cold water once again and brushing my teeth and hair, I walked over to my closet to look for something to wear.

I picked out a pair of black skinny jeans and a white full sleeved shirt. Normally, I'd wear a tank top instead but the bruises and cuts on my arms would raise suspicion and cause embarrassment. If my father ever found out I told someone he beat me, I'd sure be dead and kicked out of my werewolf pack. They said to not draw any attention towards you, negative or positive. Anyway, I put on a gray cardigan that was lacey and had a beautiful design of flowers on it. Jogging down the stairs, I found my dad smoking. He sat on the couch with a bottle of vodka with him. My hands shook uncontrollably and I slowly took a few steps to the door. The beatings were worse when he was drunk.

Once I made it to the door, I grabbed my black flats from the side, slipping them on as quickly as I could.

I had to get out of here before my Dad would hit me or beat me. Yesterday, I guess I spent too much time in the bathroom. That paid for several deep scars and whipping-marks on my back and thighs.