The Fray

Chapter 1

I was being robbed. By who? Well that was something I was less certain about. The clunking sound of heavy boots was unmistakable as  they produced almost deafening squeaks on the wooden floorboards. It was like my own house desperately  trying to alert me of the intruders. Each squeak of protest was my own personal 'run for your life' alarm. However I was educated enough to know that any attempts at said escape would be futile.

They were directly below me. Despite their continuous shushing, the obnoxious chuckles of victory were clearly audible from my room. The scraping back of chairs brought a different image to my head though, making me question my entire rash assumption. Why would thieves get comfortable in a house they're currently robbing? How come my parents haven't awoken with all the racket they're making?

It 's a high possibility that they're all just guests at a party I wasn't aware of at- I snatched my watch from the bedside locker before retreating back into the safety of my duvet- four in the morning. Maybe not so much a high one now as such a reasonable one. Completely reasonable. It was just another good-old-fashioned party of what seemed like eight people at four on a weekday. As a way of reassurance, I listened intently to the whispering voices, searching for any signs of familiarity.

My parents have never been keen on strangers or making new acquaintances. There goes a second point to 'I'm screwed'. Another giveaway was the mere fact that they were whispering. No matter what kind of wacko party it is, whispering will never become a theme. By God, have my parents tried that on me.

I was being robbed. But really who in their right mind would believe there was anything worthwhile  in this house. Of all the houses, how could one think they hit the jackpot with this dump?

My body was a stubborn block of ice, rendering me useless. Those people could be heavily armed or psychotic. With my luck, probably both. There wasn't a single valuable item downstairs, well, bar from the fridge. Is that what they've come for? I shook my head at the absurdity, nobody could possibly guess that that ugly thing was of any worth.

My Dad's golf club lay exactly where I left it . Even without the light, I could see its protruding handle on the top of my shelf. For three years it's been waiting for this dreadful night; defence being its only purpose. Never once had I thought it necessary until now. The only phones here were the house phone (which lay downstairs on the counter next to my own) and then finally my parents'.

Before moving an inch, I contemplated my options once again. I can stay here and most likely get murdered or try to sneak across the hall and most definitely get murdered. My bed was no longer the comforting haven it once was. I felt like I was waiting to be nailed into my own casket  at any given moment. Having put the feeling into words, I rose up cautiously.

I've never considered my floor to be an enemy until this day. They were right below me, I could practically hear them breathing! Whatever movements I make from here on will be equally as perceptible. My muscles felt tight and unwilling as I slid the blanket slowly down, enough to swing my legs up into position. In one way or another, I'm going to end up on this floor so why not just get it over with? The floorboards were hardly visible, filling me with a wariness I wasn't aware I was capable of. There could be something left on the floor. Something that is so eagerly anticipating the trip I am hopelessly doomed to make.

The voices downstairs grew louder. It was as if they'd suddenly gotten into a heated argument, momentarily forgetting their illegal duties. An unwelcome thought raced through my mind. They didn't care much about not being heard; their recklessness a dreadful awakening. Either it's amateur hour or those people have enough reassurance to know that jail won't be an outcome of tonight. The kind of reassurance that shoots stupid teenagers such as myself. These intruders weren't here to steal at all or even use our dining room to house their loud chat. They wanted blood. It was the undeniable truth which I have no choice but to face. My parents were suspiciously silent across the hall, not even Dad's snoring could be heard.

I flopped back, huffing out in relief. All the tension left my body like the juice from an orange, leaving me slightly trembling. The aftershocks from all the adrenaline possibly. Even with exhaustion weighing me down, I felt giddy. A smile so large overcame my face, I just wanted to run up and scream at those idiots for scaring the life out of me. This whole time, they were just downstairs. There has to be at least one reason for it since there's not ever a snore-free night or a time when they would leave me to fend for myself. They're the protective parents that you're embarrassed to bring home guys to. The good parents.

I jumped up excitedly, landing on the floor with a thud. The arguing stopped abruptly. My blood ran cold, freezing me in my spot. It was a waiting game, each side daring the other to move.

I took a hesitant step forward, the creak practically echoing around the house. It might as well have been the shot signalling the beginning of a race for the chase had begun. Their heavy boots started pounding up the steps.

My parents never run.

Everything seemed to slow down to the point that time was meaningless. This could be my last few moments on Earth. It can't be though! I just got into Sherlock, I still don't know how to plait my own Goddamn hair or work the freaking washing machine! Apparently there are so many different types of apples that no person could possibly live long enough to taste every one. I accept that challenge.

My legs moved on their own accord, stealthily bringing me to the window. I flung it open and draped my leg out. The vines that covered this side of the house were my ladder as I clumsily sped down, in too much of a panic to care about the awkward positions I went down in. The sound of my bedroom door being banged open had me running for the streets.

Where can I go? The lights on the path were enough to illuminate my way which meant it was also bright enough to lead them...to me. I'm so stupid! After all those horror movies that I mentally slapped the leading ladies in, I do this. Getting off the street, I start pushing on towards the grove. The trees and bushes should be enough to hide me from whoever could possibly be following me. How perfectly cliché? The idiotic girl goes running, her nightgown blowing up in the wind (so humiliating), towards a little forest for safety. How could anything go wrong?

"Got you." My body was yanked back painfully.

Oh right.