Author's note: Hi everyone, this is my first story so please r&r! Hope you enjoy the first chapter and thanks to anyone who reads this :) xxx
-I changed Cara's age to twelve so I could get more action happening ;)
CHAPTER 1 – PAST
Cara Marinos was a twelve year old girl with natural beauty. She was slightly shorter than average and sported a lightly tanned body with a skinny waist. She featured big, intense turquoise eyes, a small straight nose, plump lips and long wavy honey blonde hair that went half-way down to her waist. Her father was Greek, and her mother was half French half Austrian, she was a unique combination indeed. She had lived her early years of infancy in Melbourne, also where her parents had met, before moving up to London at the age of four.
Cara's dad owned a very successful company and was hardly ever home, and her mum had been a model, but she retired early and ended up fashion designing from home. So because of this, Cara formed a close bond with her mum, from whom Cara seemed to have inherited most of her features. They lived in a posh mansion situated in the richest suburb of London, and Cara led a pretty ordinary rich kid's life- at least before it all happened.
One day, Cara had returned from a draining day of school to a silent house, too silent. She'd crept a few steps along the huge hallway, before her foot sank into a puddle of gooey stuff – blood. She cautiously moved further along the luxurious corridor, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, and turned into the living room, only to find her dad sprawled across the fluffy mat, blood oozing from a gash in his left breast. Cara was so shocked at seeing her dad's dead body that she collapsed onto the wooden floor, her face chalky white and her hand covering her mouth.
When she had calmed a little, Cara pulled herself up with help from the door frame, legs quaking, and continued slowly through the adjoining double doors into the dining room. And there was her mum, resting upon the wall with her two hands supporting a bloody kitchen knife which was gauged into her stomach. Cara slowly stepped forward; tears rolling down her face as she gently grasped her mother's stone cold right hand and stared at her beautiful face that was now grey. She looked so peaceful that Cara felt that she shouldn't disturb her mother's deep sleep. So just like that, she remained still, silently sobbing beside her dear mother for what seemed like hours, until at last, she stood and reached for the phone, then slowly dialed triple nine.
The next few hours passed as a blur. The police arrived and taped off the scene of crime, the house was surrounded by journalists at this news and Cara was ushered into a police car and driven to the local station by a couple of friendly officers, although they treated her like she was five and this irritated her. They seemed to be avoiding the subject of the death of Cara's parents, as they probably thought it was a sensitive spot. When they arrived, they brought her a mug of hot cocoa with two white melting marshmallows floating on the surface, which reminded Cara of the hot cocoas that her mum would always make for her – they were the best. While she sipped at the mug sadly, two young women accompanied her, while a few other officers were talking quietly on a phone nearby, occasionally throwing backwards glances at Cara. She assumed that they were contacting psychologists or whatever, as she hadn't spoken a word since calling the police and they probably thought she was mentally scarred by the gruesome image that she had witnessed.
When she looked up to check the time on a clock hanging above the reception desk, it was already six o'clock. An elderly woman walked in at around six thirty. While a few officers went out to buy dinner for the lot, the lady – introducing herself as Jennifer Mitchum – sat beside her on the plastic benches and made some small talk. Cara found herself liking Jennifer – she was really nice and respected what Cara had to say, and eventually they were in a deep conversation about each other's lives. Jennifer told stories about her job and unusual people she had encountered and in exchange Cara would tell her about her life, in school, at home, about her mum and dad, just her life problems in general.
Around eight, after having a pizza which Cara could only manage to get a few bites out of, Jennifer led Cara to a small bedroom. Cara assumed that it was the place where she would have to stay for the night, but as she turned around to examine the room, a sharp needle pierced her arm. She tried to scream, but her voice got caught in her throat and she got swallowed into darkness.
