RED.

So uh... This is the first ever chapter of my first ever book, hope its good :)

There is a town. A town not so heard of just outside of a rather deserted city in a low population state. This town had people who knew every one. No one was a stranger, no one wasn't a friend, no one was mysterious or unheard of who lived here, everyone knew the locals and there were no tourists.

That is, until I came along.

I don't even remember why I came here. I remember my father's rage ridden face as he found out mums plan to leave him. I can still remember the sound of the sickening crunch of the bones in her jaw breaking as he punched her.

I remember attacking him, lunging myself at him with every bit of force I had behind my young and fragile fists. I was only 17 and hardly a man. My attack probably ended up doing the same ammount of damage to him as I did to me. I remember seeing my older sister throw herself at him from behind as I fell backwards onto our poorly varnished floor boards. I looked up and saw her digging her nails into his face. I remember how the room was filled with screams. Screams of pain bubbling through blood from my mother on the floor next to me, screams of years of pent up anger and rage and fury from my sister Rachel, as she attacked my father from behind and clung to his back. Screams of anguish, pain and fear of their life from my father.

I remember the thought I had at that very moment two years ago, 'kill him Rachel. Blind him. Stick your thumbs in his eyes so deep you finger tips could graze his brain. Or even better, hurt him within an inch of his life and then don't grant him death, make him suffer as he has done to us. This man deserves worse than hell.'

I can remember all that, and more but not why I came here. I can remember why and how we left, why I went elsewhere, but not why I came here to a little town of hardly much and barely any just outside of nowhere. This little town named Kimble.

I wandered up to an old western looking shack, with the words 'information desk.' In bold blue letters and covered in red gravel dust. It looked unused all except for the one pot of pink tulips sitting out the front completely out of place. The windows and glass doors were smudged and dirty. Far too dirty to see through. This building had a homey feeling. As if it wasn't a government or official building but someone's home. Someones sanctuary. I push open the door and walk in, the chime of the bell on the door only adds to the home town feel. A short woman who was sleeping at a desk in the middle is awoken and alerted to my presence.

"Who... Who are you?"

She seemed utterly confused by my arrival. Does she treat every stranger this way?

" s... Sorry, I must seem so rude, I'm charline. Sorry its just, we NEVER get newcomers, even tourists, ever. So were you just passing through? Lost and need directions? Missed your bus and need a room for the night?"

"I do need a room, but not just for the night. I'm looking for a place to stay, permanently." I had to practically force the words out of my mouth, I hadn't stayed anywhere more than a week since we left. Since Rachel went missing. Since mum died. I tried to convince myself it was the right thing to keep moving, to not get attatched, if I stay who I am and where I am, my past will find me and come back to haunt me. My memmories will find me and come back to haunt me, if they catche up with me, they will never let me go. But worst of all, the main thing I'm running from is my father. He came after Rachel until she went missing, he went after mum until the day she died. And now me. I'm the last one. If he finds me I'm over. Everything I've fought for, gone. So now I keep moving, I've changed my style of clothes, my hair, my home and mostly, my name. I'm no longer the man he is looking for. And he wont find me as long as I stay this way.

The short woman stared at me as if the word 'permanent' was foreign to her.

"...really?" She quanders. I simply nod.

"Uhh... Ok then this is a first..." She gets out a large unused and dusty looking book and started looking to through the index. She flipped to a page with the bold words RESIDENCIES printed on it. She began dialing a number and looked at me again.

"Sorry what's your name again?"

"F..." I began to say and then stopped myself. That wasn't who I am anymore. Escaping my past was more difficult than it had seemed at first.

"Bryan Fergall" I corrected my self, proud of my new name.