The Runaway

Hey peoples!!!! This is my first story that i've ever really shown anyone. It's a little sad. Since it's my first book, it's really short. Hope you enjoy!

Claimer: I own The Characters and the story :)

"Help me Elisa!" screamed my dad from inside the burning house.

"Help me." he kept calling out my name. The trees caught fire and the smoke was choking me. It smelt like a BBQ on crack. All of a sudden a line of smoke and fire cleared and there was the man.

"Elisa, why did you run away?" he pulled out a knife that gleamed in the moonlight.

"The fun was just starting." He said, the cynical smile growing bigger on his face. His eyes started glowing yellow and sharp fangs protruded from his gums. Black wings sprouted from his back, and a deafening scream sounded from him. I covered my ears and screamed as loud as I could as he fell on me with the knife.

I sat straight up in bed, a cold sweat running on my face and the back of my neck. I looked around, the sun just leaking through the blinds, leaving the room looking like it's on fire. I got out of the safe comfort of my bed and walked to the bathroom. I ran the cool water and splashed it on my face looking in the mirror. The dreams are getting worse.

"Mommy, are you okay?"

"Yeah, sweetie. Just go back to bed." My sweet little girl rubbed her eyes and walked lazily back to bed. It's been exactly 6 years today. Tears formed in my eyes. What would have happened if I hadn't run away? I quickly dismissed the idea.

I half ran back to my room, shut and locked the door, and turned the light on. Under my bed was a dusty box that I hid from the world, and me. Just touching the old box brought back horrible memories.

I opened the box gingerly so that it wouldn't rip. Inside was a gray jumpsuit that was tattered and stained with blood. In big block letters the number 19 was printed. 19. That number was and is a curse. I picked up the suit and set it down. Under it were pictures, and newspaper clippings. "MURDERER STILL NOT BEEN FOUND!" said one. Another said "TRAGIC DEATH OF FBI AGENT" "LOCK YOUR DOORS, THE ST.CLAIRE KILLER STILL NOT FOUND" ugh, I hate that name.

To tell you my story we have to go back about six years. If you're reading this, you have swear that you won't tell the police that I'm alive. Six years ago I was just turning 19. Life was good. I had a scholarship to a nice college, had a ton of friends, and thee cutest boyfriend in the entire world. I got straight A's, and was an excellent softball player.

A day after I got the news of getting a scholarship me and my friends took a road trip to Canada, were the legal drinking age is 19. We took my beetle convertible there. I just love small cars. After two days of drinking and parting we decided to go home.

As I pulled up to my house everything looked fine. That changed when I walked in. pictures were smashed, the couch was torn and flipped over, the water was running which made the floor wet.

"Mom, dad? Are you here?" no answer.

I ran through the entire house until I found a note taped to the fridge. It was written in a fast messy script.

Dear Elisa,

I know what you're thinking. "Were are my parents? Why is my house a mess? Well if you follow these directions carefully and don't call the police, your parents and your boyfriend will live. That's right; I have your boyfriend too. Better hurry.

1. get a disposable cell phone

2. clean the house, sorry, your parents are fighters

3. Go to the mall and get a new wardrobe, there is money in the pickle jar.

4. Get a haircut, and dye your hair.

5. Once you've done all that, call this number with you're new phone. 555-165-5915

Love, ?

What the heck. Oh, I get it. This is a prank. That's what I thought until I saw the blood splattered on the walls.

That's the first chapter! i'll post the second chapter in about a week or two. If you have any comments that would help me, please leave them below. Thanks for reading!!!!