It was cold, so freezing that my body felt numb. I couldn't move, I didn't even want to open my eyes.
No, one more minute in bed, just one. Moaning, groaning I knew it was time for school. I had to get up now.
Pushing my lifeless body up, I forced my eyes to open, even though they felt as heavy as rock. First a blur, then clarity, my bedroom in the crazy state I left it. Yet, something was different. In shock, I push my body up and out of bed. Something had changed; sitting on the ground was a filled suitcase, my clothes has been roughly stuffed in. Who ever did this was in rush, and no memory came to me of packing.
"Mum?" My throat burned as the word fell, what was going on?
My speech had difficulty leaving my mouth, each try gave me nothing but meaningless screeches. Why couldn't I speak?
It was so chilly in this room, it felt like a window was open.
As I looked around I could see none, each securely closed. Although, one of which was covered with long planks of wood, each one had been nailed safely in. I drew closer, studying the work. I don't remember this ever being here.
Through the planks I could get a glimpse of outside.
"What? What the hell?" Forgetting the problems with my voice, I coughed, my strained voice tight and itchy.
Outside the sky was a dark murky grey, as if the sky was one giant cloud of pollution. The sun tried to burn through, but had no luck battling the dirty mist. Had someone set off a bonfire? The ground was a reflection of the sky, the grass dry and dying.
What was going on?
I couldn't see a single soul, no moving cars or birds in the sky. It was so incredibly silent, the loss of notice felt alien to me, it rang in my ears like a strange abnormal buzzing.
Is all of this a dream?
"Mum? Dad? Kyza?" I tried to push the words out, but I just couldn't. It was so painful.
I pulled my door open and charged up to my parents room. It was empty, the bed was unmade, the wardrobe open and empty, and all my mother's photo frames had disappeared.
My heart began thumping again my ribs, I could hear it alone in the silence. What had happened here?
I moved to Kyza's room, hoping for better luck, but that too had been ripped apart and left empty.
Maybe everyone's downstairs, sitting quietly in the kitchen.
I coughed a hello but there was no returning noise. The kitchen was empty and from the looks of it, had been for a while. The surfaces were dusty from the lack of use and the fridge radiated a horrific odour.
Running around, room to room I found nothing more, only less. Each time my heart dropped and had me breathless. The house was completely empty and had been ransacked in a mad rush.
I returned to trying to cry out, call out, shout out their names, but nothing but my own screeches broke the silence.
When searching the dining room, I came across a large bowling bag. It was open, but heavy. Someone must have left it in the run, and from the look in side it seemed like they may have needed it. Guns, fifteen of them. They must have been my fathers, but I never knew he owned this many. I recall him occasionally cleaning out his small pistol, but never as many as these. It seemed to be a mix of rifles and shotguns.
I felt dirty holding them, as I searched through the bag for any signs. There were none. Just weapons.
The front door had been left open, just slightly ajar, but still open. The door-handle was cool in my hand as I slowly pulled in further open.
I coughed from the smell, a rotting animal, something was decaying. It stung my nose, I squeezed it in horror, trying to breath though my mouth rather than my nostrils.
Flies flew in through the door; I looked around to find the smell's source.
The front yard was a mess of dead flowers tangled in between dark weeds and nettles. The car was still outside the garage, but the doors were open.
Mum? Dad?
I ran up to the land rover, praying that they were there. The boot was empty, no bags. The front seats were also.
I recoiled in disgust, the smell was more dominate over here. I had to brace myself, hoping that I wouldn't vomit.
From the front drivers seats, my eyes caught onto something, in the back passenger. Moving closer, I began to see it more closely. No, no, no, I screamed and pushed myself away. Breathless, crying in horror. Tears felt hot on my cold skin. Why? Why?
This has to be a horrible hell-like nightmare.
I charged back into the house, slamming the door closed behind me. Pushing the lock across, I ran to the sitting room grabbing the bag of guns and hid behind the sofa.
Wake up, wake up. I couldn't catch my breath, the tear kept coming. I wiped them away with my shaking hand. I couldn't keep still, my whole body was moving, as if it was trapped in a crazy fit.
Wake up, wake up. Please.
The ugly images began to float back to me, each scared me so much that words could not explain. He was dead, a fleshless crumbling network of bones. Kyza, my sweet brother. I knew it was him, his dinosaur t shirt was hanging on his shoulder and the outline of his rib cage could be seen underneath the cheap fabric. In his hands, he held a book, yet another library loan.
The tears began to run my eyes dry, they were left sore and itchy. I rubbed them slowly at first but I found myself to be scratching at them after a few silent seconds. I want to take away the image, burn it, scratch it out of my eye. No matter how much force I put into it only agonising pain came. The image was still prominent in my mind.