Alex--NEW VERSION

[c1] Chaos

TEASER: THIS CHAPTER IS THE SAME AS THE OLD CHAPTER ONE. JUST PUTTIN' IT OUT THERE. 

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"Come on, Alex!" The voice of my father yelled, grabbing my hand and pulling me to a run.

Only this man did not sound like my father. This was different. He was yelling and running. He was sweating and his breaths were coming out uneven and shaky. His usual tucked in shirt was undone and the top button was loose. This man did not seem like my father.

But he was.

I was no prize right now, either. My straight, dirty-blonde hair was falling out of its ponytail. It was moist from me sweating so much. My once nice pair of purposely ripped jeans were now actually ripped and smeared with blood. Same with my dark red top that I had been asked to wear for my Mom's birthday party.

Oh, how I'd love to see her now.

Only I couldn't see her now. I couldn't see her ever again.

I scream. I couldn't help myself. I scream, and scream, and scream.

"Alex, you must be quiet," my mother soothes.

Only I couldn't possibly be quiet. Not with the things I've seen.

My screams quiet down as sobs racked my chest.

Oh, the things I've seen...

First, it was Mrs. O'Connor, the old lady who lived next door.

Then, it was Mr. Ragsdale, the dog walker.

The word 'dog' will never be taken lightly again.

Because that's what's killing us all.

"It's okay, Alex," my mother says, trying to calm me down.

But I can't. Can't calm down.

"Ma," I whisper. "Those things. I saw those things ki--"

"I know, dear," she says. "Those were the werewolves."

"Why, Mom?"

She didn't reply to that. She just continued to stroke my dirty-blonde hair.

"I saw them--" I started.

"I know." Her gaze wasn't on me, but rather on the doorknob.

We were hiding in a closet, a dead end. We barely escaped that time, but I don't know if we'll escape again.

I was in a state of shock. My crying had stopped, but I was still tense. Visibly tense. My mother must have noticed because she started massaging where my neck met my shoulder.

Then I heard footsteps on the other side of the door. My breathing immediately went still. My mother's did the same. I shrunk into her as much as I could, knowing that they had caught our scent.

The door shook. It was like a mini earthquake, but just the door.

I watched as the door suddenly splintered, a small crack revealing long, gray fur.

The door shook again as the crack grew wider. I flinched, not prepared to die at sixteen.

The closet was large, but not a walk-in. It was large enough for us not to get hit by the flying wood as the door burst opened.

Now it was my turn to die, just like Mr. Ragsdale and Mrs. O'Connor.

I pictured their deaths in my head just as I had seen them.