"Soon I know I'll wake from this dream
Don't try to fix me, I'm not broken" – Evanescence, Hello.

-x-

"I think we've killed them all. There's no use, sticking around and feasting on their blood."

"Filthy pathetic humans. This family is like a pack of werewolves, smelly and disgusting."

"They're as bad as that movie, Dracula or Van Helsing."

Sickly perfect sounds of laughter rattled his mind, echoes of the screams and visions of terrorized faces burned his mind. A feeling of numbness had long since overcome him. He waited, not breathing, and inhumanly still until he was sure the shouts of victory of the evil had long since left.

He stood up slowly then, gasping for any bit of air he could manage. His bony arm supported his body weight. He raised his arm, bringing his hand to his throat and gently stroked it, he pulled his hand back and stared. His palm held a small pool of crimson red wine.

His arm caved and he fell hard, to the cold floor. He groaned and instantly regretted it, his throat was on fire, it was burning and stung like fifty bee stings. He coughed and brought up blood, to be expected, he thought to himself.

With little strength he crawled forward to the limp body of a young woman, his mother. He reached out and shook her, "Mama. Mama, wake up…" he choked out. "Mama, mama they're gone…" His mother made no reply.

Fearful, the boy shook her harder, "Mama, it's no time to sleep…mama…Please, wake up, wake up."

She's dead. She's dead. She's dead. She's dead.

He tried to shake his head, to clear his mind of such horrible thoughts but could not. He grabbed her hand and held it tight. "The Father in the sky, help me…" he prayed, begging the Lord to save him and his family.

He turned his head to look at the other bodies illuminated by the moonlight on the floor. His strong Father, his sweet Aunt, his baby sister…How could they? How could they be so cruel, so heartless? To kill even a small child, his sister!

He could feel the tears welling in his eyes, cold painful water that filled the core of his soul. He remembered the words of his mother, "Crying heals the soul." She had once said to him. Crying, he thought, Crying will not heal this.

He rested his head on his mother's stomach and closed his eyes, whimpering and mumbling words of salvation to the Lord. The darkness swept into the room, taking everything in it's path, drowning the little life left in his body.

Someone, save me.