•Run• Scott McCall

Chapter 1

Running. That's almost all I can remember. Ever since the day my family was killed I have been running. From my past, my powers, those that were trying to hurt me. But it turns out that trying to escape only makes it worse when they catch you. The people that murdered my entire family in cold blood had found me again and this time I didn't think I would escape. But Stella sacrificed herself to save me and now she will never know how grateful I was to have had her in my life. I had no time to shed a tear over her death because the hunters were closing in on me as I tried to escape back to the one place I could think of, my old home town, Beacon Hills. So I did the one thing I could do. I ran.
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The silence of the house was deafening, stretching through each room and suffocating me in its intensity. The last time I had stood in these rooms they had been filled with the sounds of my family; my mothers chiming voice reading quietly to my baby sister by the light streaming in the bay windows, my grandfathers chair rocking gently in the corner, my cousins bickering noisily over who was to hide and who was to seek. These memories only made the silence press harder against me and I stood in the centre of the dark house, the weight of my losses crushing me to the ground. I pushed back the emotions threatening to swallow me and climbed the staircase to the first floor. The hallways were exactly as I remembered them, however the last time I had seen them they had been painted in the blood of my family. The door that lead to what used to be my sister's nursery caught my attention and I approached it wistfully, reaching my hand out to turn the doorknob. I was struck with the sudden thought of the beautiful girl she could have turned out to be and I retracted my hand from the knob as if it was white-hot against my skin, the reminder that I was the last remaining Lyall too distressing to face. I didn't want to think of the lives my late family could have lived, so I repressed it, walking down to the left wing of the manor to my old room. The time-worn door protested as I swung it open, the wood bowing until it slid across the carpet and hit the wall behind it. The smell of dust and old furniture wafted out of the room and into the doorway in which I stood, and I looked around to find everything had remained exactly the same since the last night I spent in here. The bed  remained unmade and there was even still an open copy of "Goodnight Miss Piggy" on the bedside table. I smiled as I recalled my father reading it to me when the weather was bad and the storms frightened me, putting on silly voices as he read each different part. This house may hold some awful memories, but there was a positive for every negative. I halfheartedly shook out the bedsheets and lay them back onto the mattress before collapsing back into them with a sigh. I lay there for God-knows how long until the daylight faded and I eventually drifted into a light sleep. That night, my dreams were plagued with the image of silver bullets piercing through Stella's torso, and the snarled faces of the hunters that were trying to find me.