My catalyst.
Chapter 0 Now edited!! Enjoy!~Roniღ 2023
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I was only eight years old when my parents died.
The same thoughts circle over in my mind but the pain never gets old. It happens so often that I feel like I've been living in the past for most of my present. The only thing that keeps me sane in this moment is the spite that burns in me. Every emotion and every memory that surfaces in my mind takes away a little piece of my compassion. My resolve falters and my humanity withers. I guess I could stand to compare myself to those monsters in this way.
No matter how hard I try, I can never forget the feeling of complete terror that I had felt that day. The terror that still has me waking up in the middle of night covered in sweat and tears. Each blood-curdling scream was etched into my mind leaving a psychological stain that had only one cure. One that I have been searching for my entire life. And today, especially today, I cannot seem to keep the memories from flooding back. Especially as I saw my father's Hazel eyes staring back at me in the mirror.
They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, a phrase that does not pertain to me in the slightest. My eyes had never held genuine emotion since that day, I doubt they ever will again.
We lived in a small town, in a small secluded house where the trees surrounded us and the rain was daily visitor. I can still remember waking up to a lush green scenery surrounded in acres of evergreens. Living a normal life, doing normal day to day tasks, and I struggle to remember how it felt but I believe I was happy.
I say we were normal, but I suppose to others we would be considered unique. Despite my seemingly classic upbringing I should mention that our family had been harboring a big secret. A secret that always gripped us in a certain level of danger.
My family were glorified vampire hunters. But don't get it twisted. They were not the type of "hunters" who searched for vampires because they hoped to find evidence proving a legend they heard off, in vein of Bigfoot believers. I will assure you that vampires are very real and they are not the glittery fantasy creatures from legends that most teenage girls make them out to be. They are real and they are deadly.
All throughout history vampire attacks and massacres have been recorded in olden books and journals. In the modern day, these attacks have persisted but with the rise of a uniform government, a secret society of armed forces was created to ensure the safety of our population. And my family, in particular, were not just any vampire hunters, they were the most skilled hunters to ever train in the forces. They have killed some of the deadliest vampires in history.
Having said this, being one of the greatest meant that every vampire in existence wanted you dead. I cannot recount how many times my parents and I had been attacked over the course of my childhood. Though my parents were always prepared for any situation that was thrown at them and our safety was ensured by the government that heavily guarded our gated territory. We were protected.
We were supposed to be protected.
That night my father had taught me how to use a gun for the first time. I was a natural, being that I had his blood coursing through my veins.
Afterwards I was sent off to bed with my mom kissing me on the forehead and whispering that she loved me. I remember myself starting to drift off to sleep. I remember, it was then that I heard the sound of a loud crash from the living room followed by a series of terrifying screams that until this day I couldn't seem to forget. I threw aside my covers and ran to the source without any hesitancy of the danger or death I could possibly face.
The scene that I remember next will have forever been engraved into my memory.
My mother lying on floor....blood pooling from her throat--legs twisted in ways too grotesque to even utter out loud. I remember my desperate cry and how hard my knees hit the ground next to her. She was still conscious, sill reaching for my face but the amount of blood she had lost left me hysterical as I reached out to compress her wound. She looked at me with tears in her eyes and gave me the most painful look before she turned still. Painful not because of the pain she was in, but painful because she mustered up a smile before leaving me.
With her arms dropping to her sides she loosens the grip on the ring she had in her hand. The clanging sound the only thing pulling me away from the horrid silence that ensued. I take it in my hands only because I didn't know what else to do. I don't think I believed that anything that had happened was reality. So, I sat there for a while, closed teary eyes, telling myself that this was all a dream, praying that I could wake up from this nightmare. At some point I felt myself being picked up and opened my eyes to see my father hands bloodied as he dashed to the backdoor of our house. Crouching down eye level kissing me on the cheek he told me to run. To run far, far away before closing the door behind him and shooting someone inside the house. He slammed on the glass door and screamed "RUN! NOW!" and so I ran.
I turn up the speed a few levels on the treadmill I'm currently sprinting on. Wiping of my sweat drenched face.
I ran without thinking straight into the forest, still believing that everything that I saw right before my eyes was a dream. Some part of me wishes that I had stayed with my father that night. Maybe then I wouldn't have to live with this pain in my chest every time I remember his desperate voice. His hazel eyes.
But I decided to run until my legs began to burn and my face was covered in gashes because of the sharp branches I hadn't bothered to weave through. The last thing I remembered was the cold rain that dropped on the mossy floor next to me. And blackness.
Many years have passed since then and I am remembered as a survivor. But I know that that little girl died that day. The day that her parents passed away.
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Thank you for reading. Please comment your thoughts.
Should I continue the story?
And until next time.
Roniღ
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