Hello, this is my first public book. I'm still constantly updating and refining. If you read, leave a review, if you didn't read, leave a comment/review saying you did so. It really helps a lot. Thanks

It happened so quickly only Beth's father had time to realize what was happening.

His senses were telling him they were near, merely miles away. He had thought that it would be a couple years at the least until they would come for him, at least until Beth reached 16. Everything he had planned for his family's future instantly changed. No more being patient, he didn't have the time to wait.

Mason fumbled to take his phone out of his pants pocket. Once he firmly held the bulky cellular phone, he cracked it onto the marble kitchen counter, where the metal plate which secured the phones internal hardware fell to the floor. Inside the damaged phone was a metal device the size of a bottle cap. He had made this piece of technology with his bare hands, making it so it gave off no signal. This way, his location and calling history could not be tracked no matter the amount of hacking the Police Department tried.

He had specifically made it for emergency uses only, not until now had the device seen action. Mason held down the preprogrammed button that contacted his wife's own device located in her phone.

"Hollie…" Mason said quietly but firmly. "It's happening."

The reception had many fall outs and static but the reply came, "It can't be, she's only 15!"

This time his response was panicked."There's nothing I can do about it, they're already here. Listen to me now, you need to go, get underground, a subway, a trolley, anything. Mask your scent, blend in, we don't have much time left at all. Go now!"

Those were his last words he said to his wife. Mason turned his head at the sound of his kitchen door screeching as it came off its hinges. It blasted into the wooden cabinets with a crunch; glasses clashed and broke around his feet. In an instant, the man he had been running from his whole life was standing in his kitchen. The dead, white irises of the man's cold eyes looked him up and down like an annoying house fly; his grin showed off a glimpse his brilliant white teeth. In the time span of his last breath, the man advanced on him with inhuman speed, and tore out throat of Beth's father.

"Alright that's the last of the boxes," My godmother Melinda announced. She tucked her black curly hair behind her ear. "It's not much but it's all we've got." She said in her small Southern accent. I took a quick glance around my new room. Small but perfect enough to store my few belongings. "It's perfect thanks." I gave her my fake assuring smile.

"You let me know if you need anything." She blushed, "I'll get your uncle to take down this mess." She swept her hand across the room referring to the walls. The white walls hardly peeked from beneath old news paper articles pinned messily on top of each other. The overcast sky shone only a little bit of light through the dusty curtains, illuminating maps of the country with red and blue pins sticking out of them that covered an entire wall. A desk with mildewing paper and old pencils stood against the far wall. A shaggy dirty, red rug rested on the old wooden floor at the base of a small twin bed. My possessions were waiting to be unpacked out of only 6 boxes I brought with me from California.

Melinda sighed through her nose as she leaned in the doorway. I took a step farther into my new room and turned to Linda "I've got it, I don't want to trouble you. You've done so much for me already." I flashed my fake smile again. She gave me a half smile and left me to sort my things. My cheeks relaxed and my lips fell over my horribly uncomfortable braces.

I walked to the closet and found that the floor squeaked and groaned under my feet. Once I felt as if one of the boards shifted, the poor house has been around for far longer than it should. The closet doors were the only wall space not shrouded with papers, with effort I managed to pry one of them open. I coughed from the sudden rise of dust. The doors folded open and close with force. Inside the closet was an old leather coat, a few hangers, a cardboard box of old worn leather books, and more papers and maps with red and blue pins.

I walked back over the creaky floors to the small bathroom opposite the closet. It smelled of air freshener, but behind the chemicals the smell of mold was present. A new blue and white polka dot shower curtain covered the old white tile chamber, and freshly washed towels hung on metal racks. I retrieved my toiletries from one of the boxes and assembled them around the bathroom, then I shut the door and turned the handle to the shower and let the water run until it was heated. I slipped out of my clothes and pulled the shower curtain closed behind me as I stepped into the running water.

The water ran through my thick matted hair. I had hardly slept through the plane flight; half terrified from flying for the first time (not to mention alone), and purely devastated from the accident back that happened only days before boarding the plane. I refused to let the accident overtake my mind.

After a while, I realized I forgot to switch on the bathroom fan and the white steam from the hot water swirled upward to the ceiling. I let the water run down my back and shoulders, sore from the stiff seats on the plane, and after a moment, shut off the water. I stepped out onto the newly placed floor mat. I wrapped the freshly washed towel around me which molded to the shape of my skinny physique. It smelled like detergent and slightly of the air freshener plugged into the outlet near the sink. I ran my hands through my hair a few times, still dripping with warm water, then with some work opened the window. Cold autumn air escaped from the outside and engulfed the warm air from the bathroom quickly.

I got ready for bed, weary of my surroundings all the while. Everything in this room hadn't been touched for years. When I was 13 my dad came here for his job. He had used this room for research when tracking endangered species, helping to put animals into protected habitats where they would feel at home without the risk of extinction. My dad always had a separate part of his life he devoted to animals.

Linda was just too nice or concerned to mention my dad. She'd prepped me with a few things I needed to know. First was to stay close to the house and don't wander into the woods without someone to accompany you. Also don't answer the home phone unless you knew the caller. Linda told me with all of the courage she could muster that my dads room was NOT off limits. She wanted it to be a place where I wouldn't have to feel dread or be frightened. Lastly, on "Linda's Got to Know List" she warned me that and her husband Todd could make birds depart from trees with his snoring. Apparently that last one wasn't a joke.

I was pretty concerned about myself, really. My family, my mother, my father and sister have been killed. I was trying to suppress my pain, and I constantly felt on the verge of breaking down. I tried so desperately to keep my feelings choked down, or shielded. But when I let the shield consume me I felt nothing at all. It happened to me on several occasions, and when it did it scared me that I couldn't bring myself to feel emotions.

I couldn't channel my emotions and hurt towards any person in particular. It had been an animal attack that had killed my family, the police had concluded. It couldn't have been avoided. Though it was very uncommon for a wild animal to come into the home and attack the person occupying it. The police were left to sum up the clues and the conclusion themselves.

I had hit a very low point in my life. I thought about everything that would be changing over the next couple of months. What pain or numbness did they hold in the future? I forced myself to feel the emotions, I let them betray my mind and body. I let them come forth and spread through my veins. Along with the pain came the flash backs.

I was studying with my friend Shawna at her house. We were working on a science work sheet while we complained about how our teacher had become more insistent on assignments, and his continuous sour moods. Mr. Dawson had a newborn in the house and he was paranoid easier than usual. We humored the thought of him being a father.

"Could you imagine how much work a baby would be?" I asked Shawna.

"Nothing but trouble if you ask me." She'd said. She paused for a moment. "I'd want a kid, but I don't want to go through pregnancy and childbirth, but I wouldn't want to adopt because I'd want it to be mine."

"So basically, you want to be a father." I concluded. She gave me her exasperated sarcastic look I always enjoyed seeing on her face. I couldn't help but smile.

The doorbell rang and Shawna's brown eyes became alert. She jerked her head around, which made her black curly hair bounce. She shrugged her shoulders and went back to her worksheet. I felt a little tug in my stomach and a nagging feeling in my head, a thought I couldn't grasp. The more I tried to define the thought or feeling the farther it slipped away from me. It was a feeling I wouldn't want to welcome.

From the living room we heard Shawna's mom open the door. "Oh." The word sounded like it came out of her mouth involuntarily. "Hello, can I help you?" It wasn't a neighbor by the sounds of it, Shawna and I silently agreed. We got up from our work and curiously walked over to the entry hall. "Yes ma'am" a man said, "we believe you might know someone named Elizabeth Jamesworth." At the sound of my name, I froze.

Shawna rounded the perimeter of the door and looked out at the person who had said my name. She stared for a second before her and her mom simultaneously looked at me. Shawna then opened the door to the full extent and I was faced by a man. I didn't bother looking at him because what caught all of my attention was his black police uniform.

The San Diego Police were standing in Shawna's front yard.

His name tag read Sheriff Darrel. "I-I'm Beth," I said weakly. The man looked at me with sad eyes. He removed his cap and held it to his chest. Darrel lowered his head in acknowledgement to a death. He raised his head and replaced his cap, and looked directly at me again. The Sheriff's mouth was moving but I couldn't hear anything he was saying, I couldn't see him anymore.

The nagging thought that had slipped by my mind moments earlier locked into place; the police and a death. Why they were interested in me alone. Everything connected but all at once I wanted it never to come together. No one close to me died of course. They didn't. I know they didn't. I was shocked and instinctually in denial of the thoughts and the reality of the situation.

I felt numb and shattered at the same time. I wanted to let everything out. No amount of mental denial would change the fact that something terrible happened. I wanted to scream no and that they were mistaken. I wanted this all to go away. I wanted Shawna and her mom and even the Sheriff to know I was okay. Because it hadn't actually happened, of course.

I saw Shawna, one of my best friends, talking to me with panicked eyes. I couldn't hear her. I was fine, I wanted to tell her that. I saw her mom, Barbara, moving her brown lips and her brown eyes. They shared the same worried faces. I wanted to reach out and tell them I'd be fine. But I couldn't. I couldn't because I was afraid if I reached out I would never be okay, I would let everything in, reality, fear, pain, regret, sorrow, despair. If I said anything right now I would scream and then they would know I wasn't okay. I was doing the right thing by keeping everything inside. It was what would keep myself okay.

I had spent the next week in the hospital. That's when I found out that my entire family, parents and sister, had been killed. I knew that the sheriff's news was for the death of my family, even before he had spoken, because I had no other family members close to me.

I didn't speak to anyone except occasionally Shawna, she visited me every day for 7 days. She fed me all the questions investigators and the police had for me. After a few questioning attempts they realized I only answered short, yes or no questions. Not until the 7th day did I start to come to. I don't actually remember anything, just being frozen in my body as my mind wrapped again and again around the concept that my family was dead.

The nurse told interviewers and investigators not to question or over exhaust me until I was fully recovered. On the 7th day when Shawna came I reached out to her, I told her how I felt, I was ready to go to North Carolina where my godparents would have full custody over me. Shawna told me how worried she and her mom were. She was thankful I was getting back to myself again.

I didn't feel myself though, merely a shell or a shadow of who I was. I felt like an imposter in my own body. This wasn't who I am, I didn't feel any emotions. I'd mentally blocked all feelings of sadness so I could get on with my life. I don't know when I would be able to face the world and all its miseries it held. I had to choose to be happy and to feel joy. Every day that I stayed in the state of California I tried to convince myself that my life and my mental state wouldn't get any better unless I was the one willing to change it. It somewhat helped.

Therapy sessions were provided for me on the last two days I stayed in California. I tried to open up to my feelings around a total stranger, a friend of Shawna's mom, though. I'd made small progress.

There was no funeral for the public. I stayed with Shawna for the two days until the investigations of my house died down. I was able to retrieve a few personal items. I left things that held too many memories. I took even fewer clothes. I'd figure with my money I could buy some new clothes to help me start fresh.

On my last day, today, I said goodbye to Shawna and Barbara. It felt like ages ago. I thanked them for everything they'd done for me. I could see the worry in their eyes but I knew I was doing the right thing by starting new. One day I'd come back.

I became aware of the dresser my eyes were subconsciously boring into. It became an issue that I had these flash backs, whether I forced it to happen or not. They wouldn't stop until the memory, like a movie, finished the cycle.

Being utterly exhausted I got into bed and had a dreamless sleep.

I woke up in the early morning. My sloppily closed curtains and dark room indicated it was still night. A chill ran through my body, and I pulled the covers around me. I dismissed it as the AC someone had forgotten to turn off. I searched the ceiling for the vent when I remembered the bathroom window open. I forgot to shut the window after I showered.

Groggily I got up and shuffled to the bathroom. When I pushed open the door I could distinguish the outline of the window, sealed and locked. My heart jumped a little. I wasn't the one to close it. It could have slid down in its tracks as gravity pulled it, but that didn't explain the lock. I cautiously looked around the bathroom and peered behind the shower curtain. Reluctantly I gave up and returned to sleep.

The next morning was Saturday. My therapist as well as my new guardians, my godmother, Melinda and my godfather, Todd, decided it would be best if I attended school this following week. Some people might say under the circumstances it might be inappropriate to send me to high school after the events of the last couple of weeks. But I insisted. I needed to get back in school; I needed order in my life.

I got up and took the next half hour arrange some of my possessions around my new room. The maps consuming most of the room didn't bother me. The walls looked like they were coated with different shades of blues and greens all around, with the profound shapes of America and other countries consisting of greens. The pins protruding from the papers made the whole room come to life. All around the walls there were paths of red and blue, weaving their way across the surface, like veins.

After unpacking some of my things, I wandered out of my bedroom still in my pajamas. As far as my new home goes, it wasn't very big. Then again it wasn't too small. It consisted of a living room, a kitchen, three bedrooms and three bathrooms. There was no garage.

Melinda said she kept all of her unused or extra belongings up in the attic. Though she and Todd rarely went up there. It was kind of a chore to organize it, so the whole subject was just swept under the rug.

I walked into the main part of the house that serves as the dining room/ kitchen/living room. To my left plush leather seats and a sofa were gathered around a small fireplace with a TV above it. To my right a kitchen, and past the kitchen against the wall farthest from me was a beautifully carved mahogany table with padded seats that could comfortably fit 8.

Todd was seated on a bar stool pulled up to the kitchen counter. He's really my godfather, but we call him my uncle, and sometimes Melinda my aunt. He was checking over the morning paper before heading to work.

"Good morning," he looked over with a smile. "How did you sleep?"

"Good morning and good thanks." I replied. "You and Melinda are up early."

"It's like ten am," Todd said, still smiling. He turned and leaned his back against the counter.

"But ten's early, right?" I asked for reassurance.

He leaned his body forward slightly. "Ah, you're a night owl." "I guess. It's kind of an issue." I admitted. "On school nights and stuff, you know." I looked down at my pajamas and instantly felt self conscience.

Reading my situation Todd just chuckled and said, "it's fine kiddo, I usually walk around without my pants but your godmother yells at me. You won't have to worry about that, though. Linda's taking this opportunity to get me to be more, mannerly, so to say." I could get to like this guy; he's got a sense of humor, something I've been struggling with since the accident.

"Where's Melinda anyway?" I asked.

"She's in the back room folding laundry." Todd said, standing up. He folded his newspaper and grabbed his briefcase. "Gotta head to the station to work on some files." He waved his briefcase vigorously and made a bored face.

Todd was a lawyer who worked with a few others in the same profession. He spent a lot of time at the police station working with his brother, Sam, who worked as a deputy. Sam mainly worked in the station but occasionally came out on the field. It wasn't a huge town to maintain after all.

"Where is the station?"

"It's not far maybe 9 miles, we don't live in a BIG town, nothing like the city."

He walked over to the front door, "there's pancakes by the stove and fruit and orange juice in the fridge, help yourself." He smiled "Have a good day," The door shut.

Melinda, on the other hand, was a nurse. She worked at the hospital, not too far from home. She was also doing school part time earning her Ph. D. Having me in her life complicated things slightly. Melinda and Todd didn't have any children.

As if on cue, Melinda came out of the master bedroom from a hallway. "Hey, good morning," She greeted.

"Good morning." I walked over to the stove and plopped two golden brown pancakes on my plate. I drizzled the sticky sweet syrup over the pancakes. "How did you sleep?"

"Well, thank you." I sat down on the bar stool Todd had sat in. I took a bite of a pancake. It was still warm inside. "Mm, these are good."

"Thank you they're homemade." She said, her southern accent light in her voice.

Leaning across the counter from me, Melinda plotted out the next few days while I ate. Tomorrow we would head to town and get any school supplies I didn't already have, Monday we would go shopping for clothes, and Tuesday I would stay home while she handled store shopping. "Sound good?" She asks with a smile. Todd and Melinda went out of their way to provide a happy, positive environment for me, even if they were grieving for my family themselves. "Sounds good. And the pancakes."

"That reminds me!" She piped, even though nothing had been spoken. "There's a man who works with Sam that has a son in your school. His name is Troy, great kid."

It wasn't within my best interests. I'm pretty much a downer all on my own, I'd be surprised if I radiated any type of "friend" material. "If you're up for it, maybe Monday we can drop by his house and say hello." She added.

"That'd be fun." I said, finishing my pancakes. I put my plate in the dishwasher. In the fridge I got out a bowl of fruit. "Is it cool if I look around outside? I won't go in the woods or anything."

"Just beware the mosquitoes." Melinda warned with sincerity. These mosquitoes love me, or hate me. Because of this I've been told I have sweet blood.

While I walked to the front door, I burned to ask, "Did you close my window last night?" I withheld the stupid question and decided to expel the thought from my mind. Whether or not I thought about it, someone had shut my window, someone I hadn't yet met.