My name is Amy Cahill. And I used to lead the life than any seventeen-year-old girl has.
I went to an all-girls school, where I excelled in the academic, and sucked in the athletic aspect. I was pretty good in softball, though, which was too miraculous for my Aunt Ingrid to forget. She immediately enrolled me in classes.
I lived with my very sweet and awesome Aunt Ingrid, and her funny husband, Uncle Jay. My parents died in a car accident when I was seven, and I was sent to live with her in Tennessee. I didn't remember much about my life before, but I was not extremely curious about it. Once I asked about my family, Aunt Ingrid taught me to live in the present, and not worry about the past.
It was a normal (and sometimes) boring life. But I was content with it.
And then everything changed.
My aunt and I were preparing for our Friday movie marathon, a tradition we had since I first moved here. She, as usual, was baking some cookies. I was preparing some hot cocoa.
But that night, something seemed off.
Aunt Ingrid was telling me about her day, and how her German classes were going. But I wasn't really paying attention. I was too focused in staring at the window. A nagging feeling in the back of my head warned me that a stranger was lurking around. And though my aunt and I had already checked and found nothing, I was sure of a presence out there.
I felt something in my legs, and slightly jumped in surprise. Looking down, I felt Sushi, my cat, brushing her fur against me. I smiled, shaking my head at how stupid I was acting.
"By the way, I have good news," Aunt Ingrid continued.
"Uncle Jay is finally coming back from his expedition in South America?" I guessed, hopeful.
"We both wish, huh?" Aunt Ingrid commented. "Sadly, it's not as good as that. But almost."
"Almost? It must be extremely good, then."
"It is. We're both joining him down in Argentina this winter break."
"What?" I squealed, turning around.
She grinned, nodding. "I know you hate History*, and you're not interested in his archaeological activities, but he wants to spend Christmas with us and-"
"I don't care if I have to dig the entire Buenos Aires, that is awesome, Aunt Ingrid!" I exclaimed, hugging her tightly.
"I know," she replied, hugging me back. She pulled away and pointed at the cookies. "I made your favorite, chocolate chip cookies, to celebrate."
"You're too good to be real," I told her, chuckling.
"You won't be saying that once I send you upstairs to search for my shawl," she responded, opening the oven.
"I will go across the world searching for shawls if it means you'll be happy," I promised her. I smiled. "I'll be right back to eat your delicious cookies!"
As I ran out and passed by the window, I thought I heard a footstep.
I frowned, and carefully looked out. A better idea popped in my head, and I ran upstairs. There were two large windows right across from each other. One had a perfect view of the front yard, and another of the back yard. I stuck my head out of both, each time flinching as the sharp, cold air bit my cheeks.
And both times, I spotted nobody.
Trying to convince myself that it was all due to watching too many crime shows, I stepped inside my aunt's room and got out her shawl. I smiled at a picture on the bedside table. My eleven-year-old self was in the middle, holding the newly-bought Sushi as my Uncle Jay and Aunt Ingrid hugged me. We were all smiling cheerfully at the camera, which, if I remember correctly, was taken by our neighbor, Mr. McIntyre.
Even though he kept traveling to Boston due to business, he always managed to spend time with us and look after our safety. He was responsible for getting us Suhi, a beautiful Egyptian Mau female.
I ran downstairs, pleased at the smell of cookies. "I smell delicious coo-" I stopped my statement with a gasp.
There, by the front door, lied my aunt's body. I gasped out, feeling the color drain out from my face.
I suddenly remembered that Uncle Jay had a small handgun that Mr. McIntyre had given to him, just in case something happened. But first, I had to check if my aunt was okay. I quickly got out my phone and dialed my friend's number. Mr. McIntyre wasn't in town, and if something happened in the middle of the call, the police wouldn't know my address.
"Hello?" my friend, Molly, answered.
I put the phone in speaker. I breathed out, "Molly!"
"Amy, is something wrong?" she asked, concern written all over her voice.
As I got closer to my aunt's body, my heartbeat began to race. I grabbed on to my necklace's charm, a beautiful jade, tear-drop charm that my biological grandma had sent to me as a birthday gift three years ago.
"Someone broke into my house. My aunt is unconscious..." I whispered to her, kneeling next to my aunt's body. "I don't know if she's dead..."
"Amy, is this some sort of joke?" she asked. I could feel her worry increasing.
"You know I don't joke like this," I replied. I tried to feel my aunt's pulse, but I couldn't feel anything.
"She's not dead. I used a dart gun."
"Oh my God..." Molly whispered after hearing the unfamiliar voice.
"Call the police and an ambulance, Molly!" I exclaimed.
The stranger took my phone and crushed it with his feet.
Frozen in fear, all I could do was look up at him. He looked very young, like my age or maybe a year older. But he looked so dangerous and cold.
He aimed the gun at my chest. And in a British accent, he snarled, "Dart guns are not fatal, unless they are shot to the heart. Don't make me do that and come with me."
I only stared up at him.
Sushi materialized next to him, and hissed.
The stranger grimaced. "I hate cats." Without even thinking, he shot a dart at Sushi's leg.
My eyes widened as my cat instantly plopped down.
I've never been a brave person, but that night, courage enveloped my mind. I kicked him as hard as I could in the part where it hurts the most, before jumping up and running out.
"You idiot!" the stranger exclaimed, doubling in pain. But it only took him one shot of his dart gun to stop my run.
As soon as the needle pierced through my arm, my knees crashed down, my surroundings blacking out.
So that's that.
Well, thank you for reading this. I hope you enjoy. I just want to warn you that some characters might seem OOC, especially Amy, but this is an AU (as you might've already noticed). She was never under the care of crazy Aunt Beatrice, so maybe a loving environment could've helped her develop into a not so shy person. *And yes, she hates History. Once again, she's slightly OOC.
Also, this is not my first time writing. I've written in another site, but not much. So CC is happily accepted.
I talk too much, I'm sorry. I'll end this here. See ya!