The Game

My body jolts awake to see a dark figure in my room, shaking me. I use a sudden burst of energy, I didn't even know I had, to shoot myself up into a sitting position. Usually, when I wake up to go to school, it takes me forever. Although the darkness in the room confirms it's not morning. The only light found is from the moons rays peaking through the shades of the window. This makes the carpet, the purple walls and the figure look like it's behind bars, like we're trapped. One ray land on the figures eyes. My father's eyes. Although the once calming, green eyes have been replaced with eyes full of fear and alertness. I watch as he brings his pointer finger to his lip to signal me to stay quiet. I stare at him, confused. Then I hear a rustling noise downstair and my eyes fill with the same fear as his. Then I watch as his eyes fall to his other hand and  I follow his gaze. Chills run up my spine when I see the black, shimmering gun in his pale, gentle hand. It's the one our family only uses for emergencies. Not that we have ever used it.

His voice jerks me out of my gaze. It's a deep whisper that cracks like a child's when they are trying not to cry. "Emily, there's someone in the house," he says so faintly. "Your mother is already calling 911 but I want you to hide with your sister, okay?" I nod remembering not to talk. "Good, I love you so much." He kisses my forehead and walks calmly out of the room holding the gun with both hands.

I roll out of my bed and place my feet on the soft carpet, gliding over to my little sister, Grace. My brown hair that's in a messy bun, flopping all the way there. We share a room so it only takes me two steps. I roll her blanket off of her body to reveal her green, Tinkerbell nightgown. She's still at the age where you actually wear PJ's. On the other hand, I'm thirteen so I jjust wear running shorts and an old tee shirt. She wakes up, her eyes fluttering open at my movement. "Emily, is it morning?" She mutters. Confused as her head rubs against the pillow, messing up her brown hair, to look at me.

"No," I sooth, "but we're gonna play a game. How about... hide and seek, Mom and Dad are playing too. So we have to be really quiet and hide, even if someone tries to scare you, okay? We can even be a team."

"But I wanna play tag." She wines.

"After." I say as happily as possible. I take her hand and lead her to the closet between our beds. I open the door as quietly as possible, but it's hard when you can't stop shaking. Inside there is a laundry bin and I place her inside whispering, "Don't move, I'm going to throw some clothes on you." I hug her as tighter than I have ever hugged her before. Her small arms wrap almost all the way around my waste. For a second I don't think I will ever let her go.

That's when I hear what sounds like three fireworks going off. I hold back a scream. "Don't move, that's just the seeker trying to scare us out of our hiding spot," I lie. I throw clothes on her as fast as I can until it looks as normal as normal could get. I look around, trying to find somewhere for me to hide. Then I see my old softball bat, the metal shining in the moonlight. The cool metal touches my palm as my fingertips brush the handle, making my hair stand up. I hear something stirring so I whip behind the door and watch through the crack.

I don't know who fired the shots or who it hit. All I can do is wait for the police or my father to get me. My throat tightens and I start to tremble. Wouldn't my father be here by now? Unless he doesn't want us to see, yeah that's it. Everything will be okay, I will even go back to school tomorrow.

I hear my mother scream, followed by another fire. The scream runs through me like a knife and my knees start to give out. Then I see the cloths shake, "I'm scared Emmie, I want to stop." She wines.       
                                                    
"Don't give up yet, we're winning, it's almost over. Just stay still and it will be over soon." I whisper. "It will be over soon." It sounded like I was trying to convince myself rather than her, because I know it won't be because that means that it wasn't my father. I watch through the crack at the beginning of the door. My heart stops when I see a figure enter the room. It's taller then my father, and larger. He walks smoothly, drifting across the room to looking under the bed. As he grows closer my heartbeat accelerates. It beats so loud that I'm afraid he might hear it. How can he live with himself? A murderer.

Now it isn't fear that's growing, it's anger. My hand tightens around the bat to the point where my knuckle start to turn a deathly shade of white. I step out as I see his back turn to face me. This is for Dad... and Mom... and Grace. I swing the bat as he turns around and fires. I feel a sharp pain in my stomach. I hold my stomach tightly as I fall to my knees. I lay on the ground as I hear sirens growing louder. I don't see the figure anymore, but I hear him searching. Searching for my sister. Searching for Grace. My breath thickens and I fight to keep my eyelids open. The carpet around becomes drenched with my blood and I wince at the mere sight of it. I see an eye in the crack of the hamper. Then, in what sounds like a whimper, I use every ounce of energy I have left to exhale, "Win the game." My vision blurs as the sirens come closer and I wait until I can't wait anymore. Listening to the figures steps.