The Marks (DISCONTINUED)

Chapter 1: The Beginning

He looked up at Rikki again to ask if she wanted to race up the hill, but her face was focused on something behind him. Her mouth hung open in horror and her eyes twinkled with flickers of red and orange.

"What is it?" Chase asked, confused.

Rikki stuttered for words but gave up and pointed over his shoulder.

Chase spun around and when he did, all remnants of his smile dropped.

It was a house, and it was on fire. But not just any house.

His house.

Before his mind could process what his body was doing, he jumped up and ran towards the house.

"Chase!" Rikki screamed.

He could faintly hear her over the pounding of blood in his ears. He dashed across the street towards the blaze and up the sidewalk. He didn't make it any further though, because large hands were pulling him back.

"Woah there, kid." A firefighter said.

Chase struggled against his grip, "Let me go! My family's in there!"

"I can't let you in. The men are doing there best to get them out."

Chase continued to kick and scratch, doing his best to escape the man's hold. Warm tears rolled down his cheeks and he could feel the heat from the blaze in front of him.

"Dad! Mom!" he called out into the fire.

The only response was the sickening crunch of the house collapsing on itself as the fires ate away at everything inside. Chase watched in disbelief as the flames jumped and crackled. Destroying the roof, the walls, and finally folding in on itself. The house was illuminated against the fading color of the evening sky. The house looked like something out of a movie.

Three men dressed in yellow came bursting out of the front door just before the house fell apart. They came running up to Chase and the fireman.

"We had to get out of there, Chief. The house burned much faster than we anticipated."

The Chief clapped their shoulders while still holding Chase, "You did what you could."

"My parents?" Chase pleaded, "Where are my parents?"

The three men cast their eyes to the ground. The one in the an orange helmet bent down in front of Chase. Chase's eyes were blurry from tears as he frantically looked for his parents in the mess of people around him.

"Kid, I'm sorry. We didn't make it through the whole house in time." he paused and chose his next words carefully, "If anyone was in there... we couldn't get them out in time."

Chase felt his throat close up and he stopped struggling. He felt frozen, unable to move. Too shocked to understand what was going on. Tears continued to stream down his face as he stared blankly at the inferno.

He realized then that the man was still talking to him, "- any possibility they weren't home?"

Chase uncurled his fists, which had drawn blood on his palms, and wiped his nose.

"No. They were home."

All the men around him had solemn expressions. Most of them unsure of what to say to the boy.

"I-I need to f-find my friend. W-where's my friend?" He asked, full of panic.

"Who? Where is she? What's her name?" The Chief asked.

"H-her name is-" but Chase was cut off short by a sudden and sharp pain on his chest. He reeled over in agony and screamed at the top of his lungs. Clutching blindly at his chest, he sobbed and cried louder than he knew he could. Now on the ground, hands were on his chest. He felt his shirt being ripped off.

"It's alright!" A man called, "He just developed another Mark!"

Slowly the pain in his chest subsided, and Chase sat up. He glanced down at his chest and gingerly felt the new Mark with his fingertips. At first he didn't recognize it, the bombarding event taking place blocking his memories. But soon the Mark clicked in his mind. This was the Mark of loss. The loss of loosing loved ones. And it's pain was greater than any other.

Chase awoke in a cold sweat, his blankets tossed on the floor in a knot and his clothes soaking wet. The morning sun momentarily blinded him and he held up a hand to block it. He sighed, exhausted, at yet another night plagued with nightmares. He layed back down with an exhale of breath and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Chase lifted his left hand and pulled up his white T-shirt, staring at the Mark that developed there seven years ago.

A painful reminder of that terrible night. One he would carry with him for the rest of his life.