Chill

His eyes were the strangest shade of honey gold. Unwanted memories began to invade my mind. The murder, the creatures.....Those eyes. I remembered the eyes of my father's killers.

A/N: I started this story a long time ago, and posted it on quizilla. But sadly, because of something called a 'writer's block' and 'school' I had to stop. Darn. But now that I can post it here, and get your beautiful and inspiring reviews, I like fictionpress better(:!

One

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Sweat was trickling down my temples. I was breathing was heavy. Tears were flowing down my cheeks. I couldn't describe the feeling running through my veins. Fear? Hate? Both? I felt unprotected, as if someone was going to pounce on me. The room was growing smaller, suffocating me. I couldn't take it anymore.

The dream was surreal. The screams of terror, the scenic murder, the creatures who slaughtered him, the blood oozing from the dead man's body...I couldn't bare it. How many times has this dream occured to me? Four? Five? No. More than that. And the dead man...He was my father. I was dreaming about his murder, six years ago. My father. The man that once told me that I could do anything I pleased. The man that I admired the most in the world. The man that raised me and loved me.

I remember the day clearly. He and I went hunting in the mountains, and everything was perfect. Until three blood-curdling creatures were infront us. Blood was flowing down their chins from their previous prey, and now WE were their dessert. My father told me to run, but I was too stubborn to tune in on his advice. It all happened so fast. He pushed me and the trio jumped on him. I remembered the sounds, my father's pleas of survival. But they never had a second thought. They were ruthless. Uncivilized. They were selfish, too selfish to even be alive. I was hiding behind a bush, and they never noticed me.

I heard everything. And I wish that I didn't have. I saw their damned faces. Their chins and shirts were soaked with my father's blood. Their eyes changed from honey gold to menacing red. They looked at their surroundings, and then, I heard a loud CRACK! I winced. The sound was so small, and it didn't hurt anyone. But it inwardly killed me. It was a sound I've never heard in real life, but only in the movies. You know, horror movies.

They vanished from the scene of the crime. Fools. They never saw me. Their sense of smell were dominated by the scent of blood. I crawled out of the bush, slowly to my father. His neck was broken, and warm red blood was oozing down his neck and wrists. I tried not to scream. I tried not to cry. I tried not to kill myself. You know you would, too. How would you feel if you just came home from school, and found everyone murdered in your house? Exactly. I remembered grabbing his cellphone and calling the police.

They told my mother that he was mauled by a bear. As if a bear was smart enough to break a neck? But I didn't disagree. I was traumatized by the sight of them carrying my father away in a stretcher. For months, I couldn't talk. I couldn't eat. I've been scared of blood ever since that day. I was frightened by the thought of one day, they would come. They would come and hurt someone, someone far away from me. Or maybe, they would attack me.

I slowly stepped towards my bathroom, feeling ridiculous. Why was I worried? I was in my house. No one threatening can ever hurt me while I'm in my home. My warm safe house.

My mother entered my room, looking for me.

After the murder of my father, she was a wreck. But my single doctor comforted her. And two years later, she got married. And I got two older stepbrothers. Timothy was always there for me, since we were the same age, him being slightly older. Alex was the oldest, and the most serious. Good thing he's in college.

"Charlotte?" she called out from the dark, "Are you okay, sweetheart?" Her voice was shaky and filled with worry. I couldn't blame her. Ever since the incident, it was as if my dreams were being dominated by the wretched nightmares.

I looked up from where I was on my bed, and lazily waved at her.

"I'm right here, Mom," I paused, taking in a deep breath, "I'm fine. It was just another nightmare," I never realized that my voice was so raspy and shaky.

She began to walk towards my bed, sitting on the edge. She pushed my bangs back and kissed my forehead. And surprisingly, she hugged me. It was unusual because I was never close to her. I was always with my dad. But it felt good. She was warm.

I tried to stop my tears, and succeeded. I was only comfortable crying in front of four people: my dad, Aaron, my step-dad, Tim, and Cassie, my best friend. But I was never comfortable sobbing in front of my mother. Why? Because she would cry with me. No one was there to hand me the Kleenexes and say, 'Okay. Just cry it out.'

She slowly moved away from me, and touched my hair. "Sunshine," she whispered, her voice slightly muffled, "remember what Aaron said, it's just a dream."

And with that, she left.

She thinks it's just a dream. But she wasn't the one who had to her my father's dream. She wasn't the one who had to see the pool of blood surrounding my father. She wasn't there to see their eyes....

I closed my eyes, trying to capture my ever-so wanted slumber. It was impossible. I glanced at the window….and quickly regretted it.

At the moment, I thought I caught a glimpse of those murderous blood-red eyes.

Well, that was the first chapter. Tell me what you think!

Always R&R,