Instinct

Chapter 1

I was aware I was running; fast and away from something terrible. My panicked footsteps resounded in my head like a terrible timer, counting down to when I would inevitably be killed by the faceless man behind me. I couldn't see him chasing me, but I could hear his calm, measured footsteps, in comparison with my desperate ones. The hall was completely black, so I didn't know what I may have cutting my bare feet on. 

Not that I cared anyway, I was too scared and full of adrenaline to consider it. 

Gratefully, I could see a tiny chink of light, maybe 300 yards away. It must have been a doorway out of here. I kept running, counting down the yards to the doorway. 300. 

250.  

200.  

150. Halfway there, my legs felt that they were going to collapse. 

100. 

50. Nearly there! 

0. I reached for the handle, turned it and pushed. Nothing. I tried again. Still nothing. He was getting closer. In my desperation, I started to cry. This was the end, I could feel it. I swore at the door handle, hoping in vain that it may open up to bad language. 

The man was right behind me now; I could feel the malevolent energy he emitted, making me collapse on the floor, staring up. I tried to pick myself up but my arms and legs were unresponsive, consigning me to my fate. I could do nothing as the blank white dome that was his head loomed over me. That was the last thing I saw before the darkness swallowed me and static rang in my ears.

I sat up in bed sharply, grateful for the oxygen that was seemingly unavailable in the nightmare. Breathing deeply, I reached over for the light next to my bed. Turning it on, the familiar features of my room came into view: rectangular, white walls, a desk and chair in the corner and small bathroom to the left with door left slightly open. I immediately started to recover from the awfulness of the dream. 

How I hated that nightmare. You would have thought the amount of times that I've experienced it would have made it less frightening, but it never fails to shock me back into consciousness with a cold sweat. 

Looking at the clock, I could see that it was 3:42. Deciding that trying to go back to sleep was impossible, I chose to get out of bed and go for a walk. I slipped on the grey hoodie draped over the back of the chair at the desk in the corner and pulled on my running shoes. As I turned to leave, I noticed a movement in the bathroom mirror from the open door. Cautiously and silently, I padded over, my senses trying to pick up any sense of an intruder. I couldn't pick up anything, causing me to relax.

"I must be crazy; jumping at my own reflection" I thought. 

Studying my reflection, there wasn't much to be scared of: a small, fifteen year old girl with shoulder length red hair. Me. Note: when I say red hair, I don't mean ginger; I mean red as in crimson red, as if my hair was made out of garnets. When I was younger, I hated it. It marked me out as different; that it was a warning and that I was dangerous.  

Thinking about it, maybe that is what I am: dangerous.

Turning to leave, successfully this time, I checked that I had everything to make sure I wouldn't be caught out of bed after hours this time: my plastic watch (now reading 3:45) and key to my room. Getting caught would mean another month of 8 PM curfew and I'd already spent too much of my time building card houses and other trivial means of trying to escape crushing boredom.  

The grey corridor where my bedroom has been nearly since as long as I can remember felt like hostile territory as I casually strolled past the doors behind which my friends were sleeping. I call them friends, but we are more like family. The four of us were created via IVF, but had our DNA adapted to contain characteristics of certain animals, called our Instincts. For example, Chris, who sleeps at the end of the corridor, has DNA from a bear, which makes him stronger than all of us, including the adults.