Blood of the Chosen

The world was once a happy place. A place where everyone went about their own business wither that be going to work, having a night out with friends or simply staying home on the couch with a blanket, a cup of tea and a good book. Those were the simpler times, when there was no fear and no destruction. No chaos and no monsters. That world I once knew was gone.

Everything changed the night my parents were murdered. I remember it like it happened only yesterday. It was so crystal clear in my memory, every single little detail full of clarity. It was a night that, unknown to me at the time, would change my life forever and I would never be the same again.

There was a cold chill in the air that sent the message that summer had come and gone. The once vibrant green leaves were now fading into orange and brown. Autumn had always been my favourite time of year. It was a time for woollen hats and scarves and, of course, Halloween. The leaves that had already fallen crunched under my feet as I made my way down the moonlit pavement. My long dark hair danced around lightly in the small breeze. I was on my way home from ice skating practice. I’d been skating since I was a little girl. I felt free when I was on the ice. The cupboard in my room was full of trophies and awards I had won over the years.

The other girls in the group always teased me when I was growing up because my eyes were a different colour to everyone else’s. I was born with violet eyes. The doctors had no explanation for it when I was born other than it was a defect. They don’t bother me, my eyes are my favourite part of myself.

The street was quiet, everyone were in their houses either eating dinner as a family around the dining table or on the sofa watching the television, nothing out of the ordinary. The metal gate made an awful creaking sound as I pushed it open. I walked up the short pathway to the front door of the house I shared with my parents. We moved into this house when I was six months old and we had a gardener who came by every single day to keep both the front and back gardens tidy and looking nice, Patrick was his name. He always use to run around the garden with me when I was younger. He was part of the family. The house held a special place in my heart and it always would. It was filled with so many good memories.

I pushed open the door and closed it behind me. The warmth of the house washed over me and I smiled.

“Hey it’s me! I’m home!” I called out as I closed the door behind me and took off my scarf.

There was no answer. This was strange because I would usually hear the sound of the television or my mother making dinner in the kitchen. After putting my bag down I pulled off my coat and hung it up with my scarf on one of the hooks on the wall.

“Mom? Dad?” I called from the bottom of the stairs.

Silence.

My eyebrows knitted together in a frown. The living room door was slightly ajar. It creaked quietly as I slowly made my way into the room. The sight before me was one out of a horror movie and one I would never forget. The living room was a disaster. The armchair was flipped onto its side along with the sofa, the coffee table in the middle was smashed to pieces and the rug underneath it was stained red. My wide eyes trailed further along the room and rested on a hand that was on the floor sticking out from behind the overturned armchair. As I took a few steps further into the room that’s when I saw it was my mother lying on the floor. Her clothes were stained with blood. The wound on her neck, if I wasn’t mistaken, was a bite mark. Her brown eyes were now glazed over as she stared off into the distance lifelessly.

A horrible nauseous feeling crept its way into my stomach. The blood drained from my face as my hand came up to cover my mouth, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. My brain started to go into overdrive. What had happened? Had an animal managed to get into the house? Where was my father? The final question that slid into my mind sent a cold shiver down my spine. Was the animal still in the house?

My heart was hammering against my chest as my brain tried to process the scene in front of me. I dropped to my knees beside my mother. Stupidly, I put two fingers against her wrist with the hopes I would find a pulse but my hopes were soon shot down when I felt nothing. The tears finally escaped down my face, she was gone. My eyes moved around the living room as I scanned for any clues. My legs felt like jelly as I forced myself to stand. Carefully stepping over my mother I headed back out of the living room. I stopped at the bottom of the stairs looking up. The voice in my head was screaming at me to run and never come back but I had to find my father. He could still be alive.

My body was shaking as I ascended the stairs. I couldn’t tell if it was shock or adrenaline, both maybe? I held onto the banister as walked. When I reached the top I looked around in the darkness trying to get my eyes to adjust. Turning on the light was my last thought. If the animal was still here I wanted to draw as little attention to myself as possible. I started with the bathroom but it was empty, as was my bedroom. That only left my parents’ bedroom. My trembling hand reached out and rested on the slightly open door to their room. I froze. So many different horrible scenarios filled my head, stopping me from going in but I knew I had to. Slowly stepping inside as I pushed the door open I tried to mentally prepare myself for whatever might await me.

Like the rest of the house, their room was in an eerie silence. My eyes quickly scanned the room as I took another step further in. Out the corner of my eye something caught my attention. The armchair that was facing towards the window wasn’t empty. The sick feeling made its self known in my stomach again as I slowly began making my way towards the chair. My father’s dark hair soon came into view the closer I got.

“Dad?” I barely managed to whisper, my voice shaking as I slowly turned the chair.

There he was, lifeless and bore a similar mark on his neck to my mother. My hand shot to my mouth to muffle the scream that escaped it. Backing away, I tripped over my own feet and went straight to the floor. I shuffled back until my back made contact with the wall. This couldn’t be happening. This was all a bad dream and I would wake up at any moment and everything would be alright. At least that’s what I told myself. My whole body was rattling as I put my head in my hands trying to control my breathing. Oh god, why had this happened?

A noise from downstairs pulled me from my thoughts. Footsteps on the stairs made my heart race in my chest. I crawled as quietly and quickly as I could under the bed, my hand over my mouth to quieten my heavy breathing. The footsteps got louder the closer they got to the top of the stairs. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears as a shadow entered the room and that’s when I saw them, shoes. Not the paws of the animal I was expecting to see, this was a person.

They took a few more steps before they came to a stop right next to the bed. I prayed for them to leave, to not find me. Suddenly a strong hand grabbed my arm and I was dragged from under the bed. I shut my eyes and began to scream and kick out with every bit of energy I had left. If I was going to die then I was going out fighting.

“Stop! Harper it’s me!” groaned a familiar voice.

My struggling slowed as I forced my eyes open. They widened as soon as they did.

It was Patrick.