The Hunter || clifford

.seven.

.seven. 

The dark haired girl with blue eyes pushed the door to the old bar open in the neighborhood of her home town. She had been away from home for so long that she had forgotten how horrible the place smelled. But she needed a drink considering everything she lived while in London.

She took one step into the bar and froze her stride when she saw a head of dyed white hair. But it couldn't be.

She had returned home from the old continent to escape being hunted. 

Next to the familiar boy was another boy wearing a jean jacket despite the bitter cold and dark skinny jeans. There was something familiar about the other boy as well and she assumed he was a hunter. He had probably been the one who killed her dad.

Hoping she hadn't been seen, she turned around and made a run back to her house without stopping, even though her legs burned as though they were on fire. She didn't leave the house for the rest of the night and she wondered if him being in Montreal was a mere coincidence or if he had been tracking her.

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The next day, the blue eyed girl with long strands of dark hair that fell down her back in soft waves returned home with her school bag slung over her shoulder. Her mother was always keen on having her children get a good education and she sent her son and daughter to St. Albert Academy, a catholic private school where the graduation rate was one hundred percent. She was about to start her final year of high school when her dad died, and she was forced to run away for a while.

While in London, she told her mother she would be staying with the family of her deceased father. She thought that being in a new town would help her get over her father's death.

All it did was keep her always running. It seemed that hunters were everywhere now. It was a hunter that had killed her father here in Montreal and another was hunting her when she was trying to hide in London. 

As she walked up the small path that led up to the door, she could hear her mother's thoughts. But they were joined by the thoughts of a male, someone who sounded like a teenager. At first she thought maybe it was her brother Jack. But her brother had long since left Canada to hide out in Brazil. He had done so the moment he turned eighteen.

What's taking her so long? She heard the boy's thoughts. 

And her blood ran cold.

Whoever the person was, they were waiting for her. The girl with bright blue eyes pushed the front door open, hoping her mother wasn't in danger. 

In the livingroom was the pale skinned boy she knew from London. Her mother was sat on the opposite couch with a cup of tea nestled warmly between her hands. In front of the boy was a slice of warm and delicious smelling cherry pie. And the color didn't appetize her in the slightest. When she saw the boy and the color of the pie filling, all she could associate it with was blood. It wasn't the same shade of red, but it still triggered the images of death in her mind. The two looked at the dark haired girl at the doorway. But her mother offered a wide smile, saying, "Hazel! Why didn't you tell me you have such a lovely boyfriend? As your mother I'm hurt that you hid this from me."

She looked back over her shoulder at the door and debated whether or not she had a realistic chance of escaping and making it out alive. Then she thought of her mother. Her mother wasn't part of their world. She didn't know what was going on in the silence of the room. She was only human. Hazel wondered if the boy knew or would even care.