Chapter 1
Flashback - 6 years old
I was sitting in my room hiding from mommy and daddy. We were playing hide and seek! It was my favorite game to play. I heard a lot of noises coming from downstairs. Some sounded bad. I wanted to go see Mommy and Daddy and make sure they were okay.
But that meant I would've lost the game if I came out and I didn’t like losing. I tapped my finger against my lip thinking; should I go down and lose or stay up here and win? The noises got louder and I put my hands over my ears.
I decided to go see mom and dad - we could always play again.
Or so I thought.
I heard Mommy scream loudly and I think she was crying. I crept down the stairs quietly. I didn’t make a noise. I peeked around the wall into the living room. I was scared, I didn’t want to get caught.
A man was choking mommy. I saw red stuff everywhere. It was shiny red stuff. Blood. Yes, that’s what it’s called. I looked over to find Dad and he was tied to a chair. I wanted to scream but something in me kept quiet. When the man walked over to daddy, mommy saw me. She looked scared. There was red paint all over her face. It looked a bit like one of my paintings from school that we stick up on the fridge. She kept staring at me. She wanted me to help her!
I got up as silently as I’d been taught and smiled at mommy. I was going to save her!
Then she started shaking her head. There were strange pale lines through the blood coming from her eyes. She shook her head so hard I thought it would fall off.
I was scared now. I started to cry and sat back down.
Then I saw the man take a shiny black thing and point it at my parents. I gasped in shock, clapping a hand around my mouth. I knew what a gun was. Mommy smiled at me when her head snapped back. She kept smiling even when both she and daddy had gone sleepy in their chairs.
They weren’t moving. They were pale. No life to them. The man left. I was happy he didn’t see me.
I went and ran over to mommy and daddy. I tapped them, to wake them up.
“It’s okay Mommy, the bad man has gone now!” Mommy was too sleepy.
I walked over to Daddy. I had to be careful because the blood on the tiles was slippery.
“Daddy please wake up,” I whined. I wanted to play with them again but they were gone.
Flashback over…
“Salem focus.” My aunt reminded me.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. I sighed leaning against the tree. I promised myself I would never be weak ever again that day after my tiny 6-year-old brain realized that my parents were dead. Finally, ten years later and I’m finally living up to that.
“It’s okay I know you miss them.” My aunt sighed. This is my Aunt Tracy a.k.a. the best person ever. She had been the first one to arrive at the crime scene all those years ago. She came and she trained me. I know how to defend myself. I can run as fast as a wolf. I can use daggers like bullets. I am strong now. My aunt made me into something when I was nothing. I will be forever grateful. But I still wish my mom and dad could’ve seen me grow up.
“I miss them,” I mumbled.
“I miss them too, Salem, but you have to be strong okay? Go run; it will make you feel better and don’t get into any trouble now.” She whispered to me.
I did what she told me to. I ran. I ran the fastest I could. I suddenly got tired. I stopped by the river.
I swam in it for a while trying to cool down. I knew it was a cool night but that wasn’t doing much for me. I didn’t understand why I had to live all the way out here for my aunt to train me. It was the end of summer. I sat there for hours and hours finally ready to head back. I practiced with my daggers before bed. Tracy taught me to use daggers because I refuse to use a gun. Never will I kill with a gun. That’s less of a moral reason and more because I can’t even look at one without wanting to throw up. Holding one in my hands? I just see my mother, caked in her own blood, tear tracks down her cheeks, weeping in front of me.
I ran back to our home. I opened the door and the smell of dinner wafted through the doorway, hitting my nose.
I was barely in the kitchen before my aunt dropped the news.
“Salem, you’re going back to school.” I stood in shock. What? She has to be playing. I can’t go back to school. I don’t want to. I’ll have to hear annoying teachers talk all day about something I don’t want to listen to.
The stony look on her face said it wasn’t up for debate.
“Okay,” I mumbled. I wasn’t much of a talker and neither did I want to be. I skipped dinner that day, despite how good it smelled. I went up to my room and plopped down on my bed.
School? Really Aunty Tracy? I thought in disbelief. I rolled in bed back and forth, I couldn’t concentrate much if I was being honest. I never liked being social after Mom and Dad passed away, I just became an introvert because I pushed away what was really happening to me.
