You shift the paper bag of groceries to your left hand, digging through your pockets with your right hand. Your fingers finally grasp the metal keyring and you yank it out, fumbling through the collection of cold metal. You find the right key and slip it into the lock, needing a few tries before managing to twist it inside.
"Mom, Dad, I'm home!" you scream, bursting through the doorway. Everything is quiet. Too quiet.
"Mom? Dad?" You set the groceries on the table next to you, not even flinching when a tomato tumbles from the stack. Silence again. Your heart picks up its pace. This isn't good. What if something happened? You are panicking, but your urge to ensure your parents' safety overcomes your fear, and you swallow hard before you ascend the staircase. The old stairs creak under your weight as you climb faster and faster, higher and higher, finally landing on the upper floor. You suddenly gasp at what you see and freeze in shock. On the wall in front of you lay a bloody handprint. If you weren't scared out of your mind, you would laugh at it, the handprint resembling something from a cheesy horror movie. It dragged into a room, disappearing behind a closed door. Your parents' room. Oh no, no, this can't be happening. You feel your heart drumming in your chest, the eerie silence starting to ring in your ears. You are shaking in fear but open the door anyway, instantly met with a horrific sight. Your mom and dad were sprawled across the wood floor, cuts and scrapes all over their bodies. Blood, splattered on the walls and the floor, pools around their bodies in a sticky halo. You suddenly drop to the ground, tears rising.
"Mom..... Dad.." you cry, but stop when you hear a muffled footstep behind you. Your head jerks towards the sound, and you slowly turn to see a figure in the doorway, staring at you. It cackles.
"Why..." you manage to say before the pain sinks in. My parents are dead. Suddenly, you are shaken from your thoughts by an invisible force slamming you into a wall. The figure stalks towards you, observing you. You look around for a weapon, anything you could use to protect yourself. You see a pocket knife a few inches away from your right hand. You reach for it, your finger merely grazing the handle. You struggle to reach farther as the figure gets closer. Looking back at them, you now make out some sort of blade in their hand. Your fingertips finally manage to wrap around the leather hilt of the blade, and you instantly use all your force to stab the figure. It disappears and you don't think twice. You run. You run down the steps, out of the house. You run for what seems like hours before your feet start complaining. You check your pockets for anything, cash, phone, anything. You find your cell and take it out with shaking hands. You open it, your fingers fumbling through the contacts. You can tell you must look like hell because the people passing by give you weird glances. Your eyes skim over a contact and you suddenly recall a memory of when you first got your phone.
It was your 13th birthday. Your mom hands you a little box carefully wrapped. You open it and practically jump with glee at the thought of finally having a phone to yourself. As you explore it, you find a contact already added to your list. You look up at your mom curiously.
"In case of a real emergency, if something happens to us, call this number. Don't hesitate. Just call this number and tell them your location. You'll be in safe hands." your mother had said. You had just nodded, not really listening or caring.
But now you remember. You press the call button and a breath hitches in your throat as the phone rings, your hands still shaking from what you had seen.
"Hello?" you hear a voice grunt, and you quickly explain the events of the past hour, giving them the location of a hotel near you. You aren't sure if you can trust them, but this is your only hope of staying alive. You know you can't live in the humble house you had called home, not after today. You walk over to the hotel lobby and settle down in a plush chair, still processing everything new that had happened to you. You stare at the faces of all the people coming in, attempting to see if you could identify the mysterious man on the phone. Suddenly, you hear a deep voice behind you.
"Y/n is it?" You turn to see a man behind you. His hidden face sends chills up your spine and you start to doubt if you can trust this man, but you try to anyway.
"Y-yeah," You say shakily. You hear a grunt from him before he turns to you again.
"Great, come with me. I want you to tell me everything."