Chapter Two

 

Chapter Two

 

I really didn’t want to wake up. The sun burned on my eyelids, aching them to open up. I sighed; it was that time of the day again. The time to wake up, and if I didn’t I knew I risked being jumped on by my sister. I sat up, stretching out my arms and yawning. I really didn’t want to wake up. Waking up wasn’t my thing, and if I really could then I would sleep until night time- my favorite time of the day. I smiled a little to myself, brushing my fingers through my tangled hair and rubbing my eyes. It’s really my favorite time of the night, I guess. I just love looking up and seeing the stars and the moon and the dark sky. It gives me welcoming feeling. It gives me the feeling that I belong.

                I struggled out if my cocoon of blankets, stretching with a big yawn. I slipped on my fury slippers, and dragged my feet down two flights of stairs. I descended the stairs excepting the greasy smell of bacon or the sweet smell of pancakes and maple, but only the smell was rust and salt. It filled the air, making my stomach churned and get sick. I placed my hand over my nose, trying to block out the smell, but I didn’t really think of why it smelt like this. It was strange, but I just figured that it was probably coming from outside or something. Yet my gut told me something different. It told me something was wrong, terribly wrong.

                I shook off the feeling, and I walked down our “Great Hall” as my parents called it, passing all the priceless paintings that lingered the wall with staring eyes. They seemed to watch my every move as I quickly glanced at them, trying not to notice the chills running through my body. Their dark eyes were filled with fear and sadness. Even the fake flowers that sprouted from vases on the wall were drooping with worry.

                I entered the white, marble kitchen finding its grand counters not even touched. Another strange thing because no matter what time I woke up, someone or something was always in the kitchen waiting for me. I rolled my eyes to myself. My family probably left me here or something like usually and the maids were taking a break. It was nothing that unusually in the Bay household. The family would go out, leave their youngest child, and the help would be forced to watch over her. It was a pain stricken job since I was a little ‘mad’ as my family believed. But something was still wrong. I tried to convince myself of that everything was fine, but a voice in my head told me I knew the truth. But what truth? I poured myself a glass of orange juice, listening to it spill into the crystal glass. It sounded like a waterfall almost, crashing into the bottom, echoing through the deserted halls. Yet the sound was more scary then peaceful. Even the echoes of the glass being set on the counter made my body ach with panic.

                I took a deep breath, calling out into the silent for anyone. Yet there was nothing. No reply back, not even a sound of someone moving. Just silence and only silence.

                Before I knew it I was running back into the hallway. The hall that once filled my dreams with wonder was now my worst nightmare as it got longer and longer with every step I took. The pictures stared at me with huge pupils looking like animals ready to hunt. The hall was like a funhouse to me, for it never ended as the clowns laughed at my urgent run. When I finally reached the steps I was out of breath and sore all over. I had to stop for a quick breath, for I was too tired to continue and my body shook all over. I started up the steps, but found that every step was like lifting a thousand pounds. My legs were numb and useless, and I collapsed by the third step. For the rest of the way up the twenty step spiral staircase I crawled, crashing my knees against every wooden step.

                 It took what felt like centuries until I finally reached the top of the stairs. When I stood up my knees were shaky, but not from hurting them on the wooden steps. When I first saw it I couldn’t believe my eyes. Everything was covered in blood. From the ceiling to the floor was all scarlet and crimson. Blood dripped down the walls, and puddles were created in the once snow white carpet. Not an inch of white was spared, and horrifying was causing me to gag. My knees felt weak, and I bent over, puking out everything that was in my stomach from the night before. My throat felt raw, my stomach still bubbling ready to release everything again. I closed my eyes excepting it all to fade away as if it was just one of my bizarre visions, but each time my eyes reopened, I witnessed the same blood bath. How could this happen right under my nose without me hearing? I knew I was a deep sleeper, but how could I have not heard the horrible cries of help? Or why was I not even touched?

            I gulped, hoping to hold anymore puke from traveling up my throat, and stared to look to see if maybe by some slim chance that my family was okay. Maybe it wasn’t there blood. Maybe it was someone else’s. I started in my older sister’s room. The whole floor held my families rooms except mine after I complained about sharing one with my dawn-rising twin sister. I was moved to third floor away from everyone and I was happy. Now I was regretting that decision.

                Esmeralda was always a neat freak, but I was shocked to find her room spotless. I expected to see more blood. More strains of struggle. More loss hope of them ever surviving. But her green walls still had pictures and banners in perfect place, and her bed was even perfectly made. I glanced around and nothing seemed out of place. The bed was in the corner, the dresser by it, her giant mirror still hanging from the wall mimicking the room in a whole another world, and her closet door was shut as always. Not a hair was out of place, yet that bone shivering feeling attacked my body as my eyes rested on the closet door. My heart started to race as I stepped toward it, my arm reached out to open the door. My hand gasped the freezing doorknob, and I turned it slowly. My breathing stopped.

                There was nothing in there. Nothing at all. Her closet, a long walk-in kind, was empty. No clothes hung from the hangers, and no shoes littered the floor. There was nothing here. Another sick feeling came over me. Did she do this? Why would she? Did she do this to our family by creating that awful destruction in the hall? Why?

                I shuffled back to the hall in confusion. Could she really have done this? I knew she was kind of a b***h, but would she really go this far? I shook the questions off. Maybe she didn’t, and she was forced to leave. Maybe this was all an awful prank they were pulling on my. My mind was screaming and swirling with answers to my questions, but I knew none of them were true. This was all a mystery.

                I nearly skipped across the hall to my brother’s room trying to dodge all the blood soaking into the carpet, but it was impossible. One wrong step and I soon felt the still warm blood on the bottom on my foot as it slowly sunk deeper and deeper in the puddle of blood. I was in shock from the calmness that seemed to suddenly fill my body. I stopped shaking and the urge to throw up all the contents of my stomach disappeared. It was relaxing, and I liked the feeling of the blood. It helped me somehow, and I was enjoying it. My fists clutched at my side. What kind of sick person was I to enjoy the feeling of my family’s blood?

                I couldn’t even get into Altimus’s room when I eventually pulled myself away from the blood. Not that I really wanted too. I could only crack his door slightly and peak in, but it was enough to see the disaster. His furniture was thrown around broken into pieces; most blocked the door as if he was trying to keep someone out. Blood splattered across the walls and soaked the floors making it just as worse as the hall, and his window was shattered. It looked as if someone jumped out. I hope it wasn’t Altimus. Pictures that once hung on his floor were on the ground, and his countless number of CDs cracked and broken littered the floor too. I could just peer in to see inside of his closet, and could tell that nothing was left either. It was just like Esmeralda’s room. But where was he? If he left prepared why would he leave his photo of the beach at sunset crumpled on the bloody ground? It was his favorite picture that he took last summer. Ever since then he wanted to be a photographer. A thick feeling erupted in me as fright took over.

                There were only two rooms left, yet I only dreaded one. My twin sister’s room. I could carless about my parents; they never really liked me. I was the black sheep of the family, for I was always in trouble while my siblings were the sparkling stars. Many thought it was just because I was trying to get attention since I was the youngest, but I never meant to do any of it. Trouble just seemed to be attracted to me like a moth to a flame. Yet my parents never blamed it on me it seemed. Every time I would get in trouble my mother would start to cry, and said that everything would be okay. I never understood it, but I learned never to ask questions. I learned to ignore how they looked at me, and how they rarely ever told me to friends and family. I remember one time an aunt visited, and had no clue who I was. The only one I really cared about was Alessandra, but she was my other half. She was my complete opposite in everything, yet we understood each other like no one else ever could. We finished each other’s sentences, and we knew each other’s thoughts.  And as I made my way to her room, not caring about the blood I stepped in, my heart beated like thunder in my chest. I hoped and prayed she would be there hiding in a corner, yet I knew she was gone. Before I even got into her room my heart stopped.

                Her door had a huge hole in it, but when I peered in, I sighed with relief. No blood was in sight and everything looked untouched. I slipped through the hole to make sure my eyes weren’t fooling me, but, thankfully, everything was in place. The only thing that was wrong was her clothes were missing, but I had already accepted it. I had one left. No one left to talk to, or anyone to know what I was really feeling. I had no one to care about me in my normal bratty mood. I had nothing. The tears of guilt swelled up in eyes. Guilt that it wasn’t me that was taken away. Guilt that I wasn’t there with her like I should have been. Guilt of the words passed by us last night. It wasn’t fair the words I said. The words that no one should ever say. The tears spilled down my cheeks, a cry breaking loose from my throat.

                I hung my head, and began to leave. There was nothing here for me. Nothing at all, just like the rest of life. I had nothing. Yet just as I began to leave, something caught my eye. A bright green piece of paper with my name scribbled on it. On top of it was Alessandra’s favorite necklace, a gold chained necklace that held a sun shape. I had on that was the exact opposite, for it was silver chained and had a crescent moon hanging from it. We wore them every day, for our mother said it was something to show our power. We never understood it like most things she said, and wore them because we loved them. I held the necklace close to my chest, and read the note.

Dear Sophia,

                I knew you would find this when you woke up. I think this is the first time I’m happy you’re a deep sleeper. I don’t know who these people are, but they wanted our family. We did something to anger them or something, but I’m not really sure. I’m terrified that they’ll find this as I hide out in my room, hoping they will leave. I already know it’s a hopeless effort, but I think all I have it hope now.

                I’ll them you are gone. Sleeping over a friend’s house or something. They already seem to have difficulty in trying to find you in your room on the third floor, and I can hear them screaming at Esmeralda asking where you are. I’m surprised that she’s staying quiet. But I better hurry and tell you the most important thing I want you to do for me. I want you to project my necklace, for they are taking us away to some place. I don’t want them to take it away and throw it away to the trash never to be seen again. I want it to be with someone I can trust. And it seems that the only person I can trust is you. Please keep it safe. Please keep yourself safe. I have to go now, but don’t worry, we will meet again. I know we will. I can feel it just as you will be able to feel it. Stay safe.

I love you,

Alessandra

 

                I stared at the note, the tears flowing out like a waterfall, wetting the hem of my shirt. I wasn’t with my sister or family all because I was a deep sleeper. Why was this happening? Why to my family? Why now? I clipped on her necklace, and felt the heaviness of guilt pull me down. My eyes were red and puffy, and I had no more tears left as I retreated back to the bloody hallway. I only had one room left: my parent’s room.

                A small, whimpering voice buzzed in my head begged me to turn back, but nothing could stop me now. I stormed down to the double doors that hid the mess I was about to stomp into. Anger and pain adrenalized through my veins, and I yanked the doors opened. A small gasp escaped my lips, but I quickly pulled myself together before I fell apart again. Everything was the color of crimson, and taking a deep shallow breath, and I walked right in. It was strange to see this usually perfect room drenched in blood. I remember the powder blue walls and the lilac colored sheets on the bed. No happy colors were left. Only the color was angry and fear.

                Then I saw her. She laid on the ground with her mouth gaping open in a scream. Her always vivid hazel eyes were grey and soul less. Her chestnut hair was tangled and coated in blood. My mother was died, yet no emotion of sadness came over me. I simple didn’t care. I didn’t know why, but I just didn’t care. I gazed down on her, her body all shriveled up, her hair tangled, her eyes lifeless. It was strange to see my mother like this; she, like her sister, wanted everything to be perfect and pristine. Now she was destroyed and horrible looking. She must be having a fit at whatever place she was.

                I left my mother there, not bothering to say a word of peace or something. The only thing I did was close her eyes, but that was something more for me than for her. I couldn’t stand the feeling of someone watching me, and with her dead, grey eyes, the feeling would probably never disappear. I stepped over her, and walked down the small hall to my parents back office. I never understood why they had an office in the back of their bedroom. I think it was because they never wanted us to go back there and mess up their work, yet I would always sneak back there when they were gone, and get lost in the books of dreams and wonders. I could always stay there for hours upon hours, and no one would ever be able to find me. It was my home away from home almost.

                The room reeked of blood and death. It was like corpses burning out in the summer’s heat, and I knew what was coming before I even made it all the way in there. My father was lying on the floor, a knife plunged into his chest. He looked just like my mother had: grey, stormy eyes; wrinkled, bloodless skin; tangled hair and ripped clothes. It was nothing new to me after seeing my mother, and I just wasn’t in shock. I had gotten over my fears. The only fear I had now was what was going to happen to me without a family?

                I looked at the knife. The handle was made of pure gold, the very tip of it had a clear crystal. The blade was silver and ancient words were carved into the silver, the words then covered in black ink to make more noticeable. Vale non immemorem, I read and gulped a little. Never forget the farewell. The writing was almost like a reminded never to kill someone without a farewell. The thought of saying goodbye to an enemy or the one you were to kill made my body ache. My body tingled with that feeling again. The feeling that someone was watching me.

                I squeezed my eyes shut, praying for the feeling to go away. But it was impossible, and before I could even think, my hand reached for the nearest weapon I could use to defend myself. I yanked it away from his rib cage, the sound of bones cracking as I did so filled the silent room. My eyes were still closed as I slowly turned around, knife in hand, ready to fight. But when I opened them, nothing was there, and the feeling was gone. But a new feeling was replaced by it. Burning. My hand was burning. My gasp on the knife disappeared, it dropping to my feet, and my hand was burned. My palm had a moon shaped like a crescent moon, the burn glowing. I closed my hand and reopened it, the glowing starting to shimmer away, but I was still shocked. How did my palm burn like this?

                I ignored it, clasping my hand shut, and retreated back to the front room. I knew I had to call the police, or call someone. Anyone would do. I just needed someone to witness this just as I had. But just as I reached the front room I stopped dead in my tracks, staring at the bloody walls. A message was written on it and I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold in my scream for much longer.

                Revenge.

          I screamed.