Devil's Boarding school

Prologue

Has the thought of losing everything ever flitted across your mind? Have you ever been curious or wondered what it was like? let me be the one to tell you, it is unimaginable. It is impossible to fathom just what it feels like. The best description I can offer is that it feels like having your chest ripped open, your heart ripped out. It feels like being winded and having too much air in your lungs all at once. It becomes impossible to breathe and impossible to speak, so you don't do either. This is how it felt for me at least, stood on my front porch, as I stared into my house through the demolished entrance-way. The door hung from it's bottom hinges, ready to collapse at the slightest breeze. The entire door-frame was scratched and clawed and splintered. The screen door was blown into the house and lay defeated on the hallway floor. Beneath it, just as defeated, my dead Mother.

Her face was so disfigured, that if it were not for her umistakable ring, I would not have known her. I could hardly recognise my home, with every square inch of it covered in nauseating amounts of blood. Seconds turned to what felt like years before I could even remember something so simple as my name. I dropped my bag with the most muffled thud. The silence was so heavy and thick, that it could have been cut with a knife. Everything in it was smothered and and drowned. I fought the thick waves of paralysing fear and nausea and ran up to the door, first trying to go over it and failing. Then, as tears fell down my face in streams, then rivers, then waterfalls: I crawled through the congealing pool of blood beneath it. I hurried down the hall, up the stairs, faster and faster following the pools and drips of ever darkening blood. I barely noticed when I slipped on the landing, small droplets spraying onto my face, mixing with my tears and sobs.

Arriving at the top, I turned rapidly and slipped again. How much blood can one person bleed? I wondered. How much of my mother's dark blood had spilled out of her innocent self before the light left her eyes. Or, was someone else's blood caked on the bannister? Horror filled me and escaped with the sound of a shriek as I realised she may not have been the only one home. Vases and tables had been knocked to the ground, claw marks lining the tops of the tables and the walls. Sickened as I felt, I found the strength to continue to the door at the end of the hall. It was the only door left open.

My steps were slower and slower as I approached the door. I was so afraid to turn the corner, to push the old door open, to see another dead body, or worse, the attacker ready to take me next.

Turning slowly, my breaths came is hushed gasps and restrained whimpers as my tears slowed with each step. I pushed open the door with a slight creak. What I saw, was a waving curtain. White as the wing of a dove as it blew in the wind. The wind abated as if the protective wing were leaving what lay beneath to me. What lay beneath, were the remains of my Father. 

If there has ever been a moment when a person's heart could be felt as breaking, this was it. I fell to my knee's in front of his body. I sobbed and shook as I held him and shook him to wake up. But the hole through his chest assured me it was in vain.