Chapter 1 - Alone

I had no one.

My father left when I was born.

My mother died when I was eight.

I could still remember my mother's last words to me, before I had to leave the hospital. The next day, she passed.

"Daphne Parks," she had said softly, "your name. Daphne flowers are beautiful on the outside, but extremely poisonous. I chose your name for a reason."

Then she looked at me sadly, and I was steered out of the room.

I knew my mom was sick. I didn't know from what. And I certainly didn't know she could die from it. But she did.

I was over my friend's house. Her mom had been watching me a lot at the time, since I had no one to take care of me. The phone rang, and my friend's mom got up to get it. The phone was in a different room, so we couldn't see her face.

When my friend's mom walked back out, she had the saddest pitying expression I had ever seen. She picked me up, and embraced me so hard my lungs might've cracked. When she put me down, she squated down to my level.

"Daphne," she whispered, "I don't know how to tell you this. Your mother, well, she is in peace now." I didn't know what that meant. Was she better? Was she coming home? I saw the tears in my friend's mom's usually shining blue eyes. "Oh, Daphne! How do I tell you this? Your mother, she-she is gone. I'm sorry. But she passed away last night." For some reason, I couldn't grasp what she was saying. I mean, of course I knew what passing away was. I knew my mother was dead. That I would never see her again. But I couldn't grasp the idea.

My friend's mom told me when the funeral would take place. It would be in two weeks.

I didn't shed a single tear the whole funeral. But it still hurt my heart.

It went by in a blur. I could vaguely remember a few select people getting up, saying nice words about her. People that knew her from high school. People that had worked with her, before she had me. She had quit working afterward. I couldn't go up, as I was only eight. I wanted to say something. Bring the memories back. Even two weeks after her death, her face was starting to become hazy in my mind. Her voice, slipping away from my grasp.

And a week after the funeral, the monsters started attacking.