Turned

Chapter 3: Eyes Open

Watching the life drain out of my mother's eyes was a wake up call. Grow up. The world's a harsh places and it's no man's job to take care of you and make sure you're safe. Because one day, you'll find yourself alone, with no one but you to defend yourself. And that's when you either prove yourself.... or die. 

That's how I was after mom died. Defenceless and alone, with nobody to show me the ropes. But when you need it, you adapt quickly. Survivor instints kick in, I guess.

How strange it was. A 14 year old girl, just out of middle school. Last time I checked, I just had to worry about the mean girls in school and the shirtless hot celebrities that everyone fanned over.  Now, the mean girls are backstabbing bitches, that literally stab you in the back, and the hot guys will typically kill you if you get within a 10 mile radius of them.

That's what I thought about when I sat in the crimson river in my mother's bedroom. Life's no picnic.

Then, as though on auto pilot, I got up and walked out of the room, into my mother's office. I turn to the right corner and grope around until I feel the sword hilt.  Steel, silver, sword with a shinning blade and a sharp edge. My mom always kept it. Just in case. I figure this is the case. I race down the stairs and into the kitchen. The large kitchen knives my mom always cuts meat with, bare signs of recent battle. I lift the knife off the table and wipe it clean of the blood on my shirt. I think it'll come in use so I pick up about three of them and shove them into a black camo pack, along with a gallon of water, and a pack of bread. I sling the bag over my shoulder and grab some sunglasses and an umbrella from the foyer. Just in case. 

I head out the door and towards the forest a couple miles away from my house. This place is no longer safe. No longer home. Anywhere but here, where the blood of my dead mother and her cut-up best friend bring back things I don't want to remember. Don't want to think about. At least not just yet.