Hunting Me (Under Reconstruction)

A Hairy Home

Hey Guys, just a forewarning- this may devastate people- but I've decided this story would be better (and easier to write) in third person as you will be able to get a better idea of what's going on from a number of different characters views which- I only just realised- you'll need very soon. Let me know what you like better. Enjoy :)

Mel XX

Bex lifted herself off the floor, 'This is our stop.' The driver and passenger doors creaked open, the hinges screeching under the weight. Footsteps sounded as Keanu and James made their way to the back of the van then light gushed through the opening. Outside trees lined the dirt driveway, their leaves tumbling to the ground with the wind. The afternoon light dousing the golden leaves in fire. Dhillan removed herself from the seat, the dodgy springs underneath her letting of a high pitched yelp. Cautiously she moved to the opening to get a better view of her surroundings. Only to have her face pummelled into the dust. Dirt congested her nostrils making her gag and wheeze, but then she was on her back. A flurry of well-place blows attacked her face. Her whole body recoiled. Through her swollen eye Dhillan could see a blurred figure looming above her. Their whole body weight resting on her stomach, rage engulfing Embers' features. Her fist smashed into Dhillan's side. Her ribs were live wires, vibrating in pain. She willed her muscles to tense; move. Arcing up off the ground, pushing Embers weight off her. She rolled onto her only to be rolled onto her back again. Dhillans body spasmed feebly beneath her as Ember punched her nose. Red liquid blinded her and coloured her clothes. Then she was gone.

Metres away Ember lay sprawled among the grass, her face pressed into the strands. James stood over her, 'I'd stay down if I were you.'  A low growl struggled its way out of her throat like a dog tugging against its leash. 'Easy tiger.'

Dhillan dared to sit up, groggy and disoriented. 'What the fuck is wrong with you? Leave me alone!' she spat through bloodied teeth. Ember's glare could have cut metal. All these years Dhillan had ultimately been prepared to kill this girl. To hunt and kill 'herself'. But she wasn't prepared. How could anyone be prepared for that? Adrenaline had kept her conscious all this time, hyped and -what she thought was- ready to kill, but now she was just sick of fighting. The constant attack whipping her over her back at every second she let her guard down just a little. And that's when she realised how little they really had in common. Ember may have been the same face that stares back at her from the mirror but their insides were as similar as a telephone and a nation. They were nothing alike. Embers were full of darkness and the hunger to kill and Dhillan's…well weren't. She felt weak.

Pulling herself off the ground felt like it  required the amount of energy to throw and elephant. Once on her feet, Dhillan swayed, feeling like a stick teetering on its end; there was nothing to her. She turned and wobbled uneasily toward the front of the van. Bex attempted to steady her by holding onto her elbow but she just bat it away. 'Don't touch me!,' she said, willing her eyes not to well up. As she came around the front of the van she stopped. What stood in front of her looked to be a very large but seemingly normal-looking old Victorian house. The wide veranda spanned out around it like the brim of a hat. The old yellow paint had faded but what was left was like a warm sun shower; a baby yellow. The windows were large beautiful eyes rimmed with intricate trimmings for eyelashes. The front door was shielded by a mere fly screen that had been left slightly ajar, and if it weren't for the welcoming aura almost vibrating off its four walls she would have thought it was daring her to step foot inside.

 Dhillan didn't even bother to cast a look behind her as she loped up the steps, pulled the door open and stepped onto the polished wooden floors. To her left was a set of shiny stairs that lead up to the second story. The hall in front of her went all the way to the other side of the house to a window seat that looked down on the sloping hill. In the distance Dhillan could make out the winding body of a river swimming across the land, whispery trees bordering its edges. She took the steps two at a time, her boots squarking on the floor. For a moment she felt a pang of guilt- it was common courtesy to take your shoes off- but then it was gone. These people had abducted her, thrown her with the one person in the universe that probably wants to kill her more than anyone else and left her family thinking she's dead. Her boots were staying on. Upstairs were a number of rooms. Six in total. Dhillan walked through the halls, ducking her head into each room. The first was messy, a gun and guitar leant up against the wall- one of the strings broken- the bed covers pulled back exposing the white sheets underneath its green doona. The cupboards were closed but she knew that there would be boys clothes inhabiting them. As it was shirts littered the floor along with a chocolate wrapper, a bowl of something she didn't want to know what, a footy in the corner and deodorant lined up along the bedside table. The next room had brown walls and a white double bed plonked in the middle. The bed was neatly made, there was nothing on the floor, it was basically spotless; but it smelled like boy.