Hell's Angel

Chapter 1--It's Seriously Not Funny

Emily's POV

"That was not funny!"

I laughed anyways. Even though it wasn't funny to her, it was god-dang funny to me!

Jillian's face heated up. She was covered in the mud she had slipped in. Her red, wavy hair was matted to her face, discolored by the wet dirt. She seemed ready to throw a punch, and since she was my age, thirteen, I would let her. But not without a present in return. I may only weigh one hundred pounds, but I pack a punch!

She got up from where she sat, the back of her shorts now covered in mud. Her pale skin contrasted against her red-colored freckles that lie all over her body. She brushed off all the dirt and mud she could get, but it wasn't nearly good enough.

Especially since she was going back home.

But I couldn't help her now; we were at the corner of the road where we split. I pat her on the back, holding back a laugh. "Bye and good luck."

"With my parents? Yeah, right," she muttered. I burst out laughing.

"See ya next month!" Oh, why did it have to be Saturday? Sure, no school, but now Jill was going to leave for England, since her cousin lives there. Why did her family have to live so far apart?

I walk down the street, just wanting to get home before the winds come. Every day, ever since I've lived here--which was all my life--there had been strong, cold winds at two forty-five. And I wasn't the only one feeling it.

But today was different. It felt as if someone was watching me, waiting for me to step out of the street and into the grass. The new, green grass that came with a new spring. In fact, today was my first day in shorts!

My stride went from confident and comfortable, to hurried and a tiny bit frightened. But only a little bit.

Before I could smell the blood, I heard the scream. I ran down the street to my house. Nobody had seemed to notice it. I know I had good hearing, but that was loud!

I looked around the neighborhood, trying to find something--anything--that screamed humanity. Nothing. there weren't even any cars in the driveways!

It doesn't matter, I told myself. I barged inside, expecting to see blood splattered all over the walls or something. But there was nothing.

Just eerie silence.

I silently walked through the beginning hallway, making sure my brother doesn't prank me again. He does that at times. What else would a sixteen-year-old guy like him do? Exactly.

But what I found behind the corner was no prank.

There were two lumps on the ground, both seeming to be piles of clothes with ketchup all over them. That would be what it would look like to people without glasses. Me, with my better-than-twenty-twenty-vision, could see that they were my parents. They were covered in blood.

My hands over my mouth, I slowly and sadly crawled over to my parents. I had dropped my backpack at the corner, not daring to even look anywhere else. My parents? Dead?

The first sharp exhale came out, along with some other bad forms of breathing. The tears quickly warmed my eyes and stung my throat. But I wouldn't even try to keep them in this time. They all slipped out.

My dad, with his ruffled dark-brown hair--the same color as mine--had his eyes open in a protective way. "Dad?" I whispered through my tears. I gently shook his shoulder, though I already knew nothing would happen. "Dad?" I asked louder. I gave him a little shove, willing him back to life. I did the same to Mom.