Safe

Going Back....

I wake up and the room is cold. For the first time in a while I actually feel its coldness. I feel as if the darkness is going to swallow me. I turn on the lamp beside me then get up going to the mirror. In the mirror stands a girl with red eyes and fangs slowly appearing.

But she is broken.

All of her life being filled with tragedy,  one death after another. Always afraid of what could happen to her if she wasnt safe.

Safe.

A word I know all to well. One that dosent exsist in my world. I wasnt safe when I was born and I am not safe now. Not when my grandmother died and not when my mom died. Not any time I went outside to play and not the times I would walk by myself in the park. And not now.

All those times I was being watched but never knew.

Its like a sick game, and im tired of playing.

Fury grows inside me.

Why does this have to happen to me? Because Im so 'valuable' so 'wanted', the innocent people I love have had to lose their lives.

And its all because of me.

My grandmother, my mother, and my brother all had to die. They were like obstacles the killer was trying to overcome in this game. It was all to get to me.

I walk out in the wall and down the long staircase. I hear Cameron in the living room and instantly know he is sleeping. I walk up to the door and as quite as possible open the it. The winter wind hits me, stinging my face.

I walk out and close the door behind me.

I am determined to solve this. Grandmother said all I had to do is remember. 

I close my eyes and relax my body, sending myself back 13 years ago.

I begin to smell the scents of the house. All of the furniture, the winter air, and my mothers cooking.

I begin to remember the feeling. The warmth of the fireplace, My mom and brothers hugs, the touch of my favorite stuffed animal that was made by my mom.

I begin to remember the evening. Everything that led up to where I am today.

When I open my eyes I am standing in front of a old large house. It is in the center of the woods, and looks as if it has been 'decaying' all these years from lack of care. The wood that was once white is now brown and black with splashes of mold here and there. The weeds and grass have grown wildly from what they used to be.

I make my way up the front steps and onto the porch. The brick stairs look like they have been crushed and the porch feels unsolid and is creaky. To my surprise the front door is unlocked.

With caution I walk inside and take in my familiar, yet unfamiliar surroundings.

The fireplace that once lit up the room with light and heat now dusty and covered with cobwebs. The hard wood floors in the kitchen that once were brown and shiny are now grey with a thick coat of dust, Tiny animal prints from mice or other rodents that scurry on them are visible.

All of the furniture is still in the same place, but has the look that it has been aged with time.

On the floor in front of the stare case is a pool of blood. Dry now but once a dark red puddle.

A sick feeling of recognition comes to me.

This is where my mom was killed.

The dry blood is hers.

This is where she was standing when I came down to find her and tell her about my nightmare.

I breathe in and the smell of her blood fills my nostrils. It may be dry but it is still very easy to smell.