Marked

Prologue

Surely life can't be this cruel. 

I was just finishing my adolescent years with my whole life ahead of me. A night on the town: a movie, a bite to eat, and some shopping. I was looking forward to going home to my warm bed, the cold autumn air nipped at my skin.

I pulled the door to my cozy, two story, home open and my gut dropped at the oppressing metallic scent that assaulted my nose. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of the shards of glass from my mom's favorite vase surrounded by large puddles of red. I couldn't have spoken had I tried. 

I stumbled into the threshold and took in the ransacked appearance of the living room; overturned couch, broken tv, wooden splinters from the coffee table, rug torn to shreds, and a kitchen knife drowning in a pool of blood.

I struggled to keep my nausea at bay, the cheeseburger I had just eaten threatened to come back up. I made it to the kitchen, white walls splattered with blood like some grotesque finger painting done by a child. I heard a steady dripping noise, like water from a faucet, and turned to locate the noise. At the base of the usually pristine oven was a pool of blood. The steady dripping came from the liquid as it leaked out at the edges. I swallowed hard and gathered my nerves before reaching for the handle.

I couldn't hold it back anymore. It all came rushing up as I hurled over the stainless steel sink. My ten year old sister stared at me, eyeless figure with blood dripping down the sides of her face. Her usual golden hair was matted with the dreaded substance. Her throat was slit open like she was nothing more than an animal.

I tripped over the leg of a broken chair and fell, splat, into the puddle. I quickly scrambled up and exited the kitchen. I dashed up the stairs and chocked back a sob. Surely it wasn't as bad as I thought. It was all a really bad dream.

I yanked open the door to my parent's bedroom and held a fist to my mouth to stifle my cry. My father was pinned to the wall, eyeless face gazing at the door as though he was expecting me. He was held up by an iron pipe which was stabbed through the middle of his forehead. His throat was slit so wide it gaped at me like a second mouth. The closet door was tied shut so I ran to it.

I yanked to door open only to be pinned by a weight. I rolled it off me and felt darkness tug at the edges of my conscious. My mother, same vacuous gaze as the rest of my family, had fallen on me. My clothes were now drenched but it didn't register. My mother's throat had been slashed like the others but her tongue was cut out and stapled to her throat, as if the killer was mocking my earlier thoughts. 

I whimpered and pushed myself off the floor. I couldn't form a coherent thought when I heard a gurgling noise. My heart leapt and I hurried over to the next room. The crib was bathed in the moonlight and I gripped the edges. My baby brother cooed at my haphazard state and gripped his tiny hands at me. He blinked his baby blues at me and laughed, a cute squeaky noise and saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth. He became fascinated with his toes and clumsily gripped them before trying to maneuver them into his mouth. As adorable as he was something was wrong.

I scanned over his minuscule figure and tried to get my mind to work. It suddenly clicked, his eyes were teary, his window was open when mom always left it closed to keep out the cold night air, and in a subtle trail from the door to the crib to the open window was spots of blood. I picked up my baby brother, paying no heed to the state of my clothes, and cradled him in my arms. He gazed at me curiously and played with my hovering fingers. A thin line graced his tiny neck, proof the killer had tried to get him as well. Hearing me come home must have scared him off and I was glad I still had one person left. 

It hit me then, like a wave in the ocean, all my emotions came barreling down on me and the tears flowed freely. The police, that's right. I held my brother like a life line and fished out my phone. The hollow rings echoed inside my head and reverberated in my heart. The dial tone rang for an eternity.

"Hello 666. What seems to be the problem?"

The calm voice on the other end caused my voice to come out in a straggled whimper.

"Hello? What seems to be the problem?"

My cries came out, like a broken dam. The voice at the other end reflecting everything my life seemed to lack at the moment. I tried to rein it all in, control my voice to answer the question.

"Th-th-they've..."

My voice quivered and broke off.

"They've...They've... b-been killed!"

It came out rushed, almost unintelligible, but he seemed to understand.

"Ma'am. I need you to calm down. Can you breath?"

I struggled to gulp in air, greedy but short breaths that couldn't satisfy my burning lungs.

"Ma'am. What is your name and age?"

I faltered, panic flooding me. Name? Age? I couldn't seem to find it. It was hard to remember anything when my brain was assaulted with images of my family before and after today. It was like some twisted horror movie stuck on a loop.

"Miyako... Tsukino... age 16..."

To come across that tidbit of information was challenging. Every thought at that moment was an endeavor. 

"Miyako stay calm. I'll send an ambulance and police to your place. I need to know where you live."

My address had been engraved into my brain from a young age and yet I couldn't seem to remember. My mouth moved on its own, prattling off my address instinctively. My words didn't register. The man on the other end continued to talk to me, sirens blared in the distance but it was all muffled. My brother squirmed in my arms but I felt as though I was being submerged. I felt like I was drowning. I couldn't breath and the pressure pounded at my head. I gripped my brother and struggled to stay conscious.

I vaguely saw the paramedics running to me before it all faded away. Shouts and the cries of my brother were diminished until I was left alone in the darkness.