Shudder

Prologue

Prologue

I was swinging. The air swished through my hair, long and ashy blonde, the sunlight making it pale gold.

My legs pumped in and out, keeping me swaying and swinging further into the air. My stomach fluttered and a gleeful laugh bubbled up and spluttered out my throat.

My five-year-old self grinned happily, loving the tire swing that had been built when my parents knew they were having me.

I had been so caught up in the wind touseling my hair, the feel of that fluttery joy in my stomach and the serene calm of nature that I hadn't noticed a single thing out of place.

My young self had merely kept on swinging, laughing and giggling. The birds had stopped chirping though, the cats had fled and the dogs were barking in the distance.

But I hadn't been deterred...not until I heard that sound.

Bang!

The noise echoed in my small ears and even so young I knew it wasn't the average, every day sound. I scrambled from the tire swing, tripping over myself and stumbling into the grass.

It was as I pulled myself upright I noticed the black car. I thought it was pretty, shining in the daylight, but my thoughts would soon change their outlook.

Bang! Bang!

The sound was there again and I scrambled to my feet, heading to the door which was ajar. I found it strange, but pressed onward, searching for the cause of the odd sounds.

I had traveled into the kitchen and found it still normal so I had moved onto the living room.

I instantly came to a dead stop. My little, innocent brain thinking, 'Who's screaming?'

I was though.. I was the one screaming at the unpure, violate scene seeping into my eyes.

My father was dead... and my eyes soaked in the details of his death like his blood soaking into the cream, plush carpet.

His head was gushing like a river of bright red. He lay lifeless; sprawled out unnaturally. His arms and legs were bent at odd angles like some sort of monster and his eyes looked as though someone had robbed him of their color. His mouth was open in a desperate, silent plea for life.

I staggered around him, tears streamed down my tiny face and I wanted nothing more than for him to be alive. For his eyes to sparkle.

They never did and I fled from the room, needing to find my mother with hopeless desperation.

My little legs carried me throughout the house, only to wind up in the backyard.

I shook, my mind rebelling what my eyes couldn't deny.

I had found my mother, but it wasn't at all the way I had wanted.

My mother lay in the flattened grass, blood glowing vividly around her like splattered rain on the greeness of it. Her head was split like a canyon and two holes bled blood like the canyon. Her eyes, too, looked robbed of their once bright blue color.

I turned, my little body shaking and shuddering and just wanting out of this awful nightmare. But I couldn't get out.

My ears picked up a click and I froze, scared beyond belief. Even at five I considered my death and had wondered if I'd join Mommy and Daddy...part of me had wanted it.

But I wouldn't receive it.

I turned, small and frightened, to stare at an almost ordinary man. He wore a plaid shirt with jeans, stubble on his face like Daddy's had when he hadn't shaved in awhile and he seemed nice -- if not for the black gun in his hands and blood coating his clothing.

I had thought I'd die as he raised the gun, I saw, even so young, my life die at the hands of him.

But instead I watched him hold the hunk of cold metal to his head, mouth 'I'm sorry' and pull the trigger.