A/N Please help with the title. I'm never great with titles.
Everyone was after me. The government, my family, and the stupid agency the government didn't know about. It all started a while ago, when I found something in the back of my room. Something terrible, something no one person should have on their shoulders alone. I myself have a pretty good idea as to what the heck it is, and that I should not let anyone else have it. I remember the day I found it. That stupid little circle thing. I found it behind my bed. I wanted to rearrange my room, but my mom, who cannot stand change, wouldn't let me. It figures. I moved my bed anyway. There was a little door there, the size of a basketball. It had a handle; it was black and curved like a door on a mansion. I was curious, I'll admit that. I opened it slowly; surprised it was unlocked at all. I peered inside, and saw a note and a circle thing. I picked up the circle-ball thing. It was very light. I shook it lightly. Nothing. I set it on my small bed and got out the note. It was just a post-it. I read it anyway. It said something about an agency, the world dying, blah blah blah, and at the end, it said me. My name. Drake Ronald Jacobson. A little odd, I say. To me, the little post-it looked way too old to be around when I was born. On the back, it didn't even say post-it. Either that or I just couldn't see it because the post-it was too old.
I looked at it again, trying to make sense of the words on the old post-it. It was written very sloppily, like the person was in a rush. Towards the end where my name was, it said my name, and then said, "The world is going to die. You must…" then it trailed off in a pile of scribbles. The scribbles ended abruptly. Not a good sign, in my personal opinion. My mind played what-could-have-been in my head. The person could have passed out, been murdered, wanted to keep whatever this was a secret, things like that. But the one that played in my head the most was of a crippled old man, sweat beading down his face, his eyes red from crying, was writing this note. A man behind him, scary and well built, was breathing down his neck. The man's eyes were a rich dark brown, nearly black. He was whispering to the old man. Then he moved away. The old man stopped writing, but the pencil continued to move. The scribbles. I thought. The old man turned pale, and then was gagged by the tough guy with black eyes. The old man's emerald green eyes looked pleadingly, his gaze right at me. He can't be looking at me. I thought. There must have been somebody right where I'm watching from. There has to be. It seemed impossible at the time. The vision I saw was from the past, and there's no way it could have been true. I thought I had imagined it, just like the other scenes in my head. Then a knock came at my door. If it was Mom she would have said something instead of knocking. As it was, I had a peep hole in my door. No one knew about it. Except Mom. She knew. Most people don't think a kid would have a peep hole in their door. But I do. I looked through it, and Mom wasn't there. Some strange guy in a suit was. I looked back to my bed. The circle thing was a dull gray, and it didn't have a way to open it. I put it; along with the old post-it, back into the small door. Another knock, except louder this time.
"Just a minute!" I shouted, "I, uh, I'm not decent!" I shouted to the door. No response from the man in the suit. I pushed my bed in front of the little door with the fancy handle. Then I went to my bed room door. I saw the guy in the suit. He had sunglasses on, with one of those little cords like the secret service have. He looked too mean to be near the president though.
"Can I help you?" I asked the man. He didn't answer, just came into my room.
"Uh, come in?" I said. He ignored me. He proceeded to my bed. He pulled it away. I stayed calm on the outside, but on the inside, I was shouting my head off at the guy. Get the heck away from my bed, and this is my room, which I never invited you into! I shouted in my mind. He had pulled the bed away, and was yanking at the small door.
"Ack! This stupid door! Open! Open up!"He practically growled.
"Um sir, the door is unlocked." I said.
"What did you say, punk?" he asked me. Oh my god. I thought. That's the guy. The guy from the vision. His sunglasses were tipped down, so that I could see his rich dark brown eyes. The ones nearly black. Crap.
"I asked you something kid. Now answer me." He snarled. I just bolted out of the door. I had to make a distraction. Get him outta my way so that I could get the circle-thing and post-it. I had a pretty good idea he knew what it meant. I was at my door, and could hear him clomping down the stairs. Then I heard a thud, and a crash. He broke the vase. I hate that stupid vase. I thought. Good riddance. I was out the door, and then ran around back. I didn't hear him anymore. I looked around and saw him heading into the fields. What an idiot. I ran in through the back door, up the stairs and into my room. I opened the small door, and grabbed the stuff. I put it in my book bag. I climbed down the stairs, and then ran out the back door. This time I ran for the woods, not the fields. I'm not that big of an idiot. I ran farther than I have ever before. Then a quick little thought pulsed through my mind- what about Mom? Aw crap. I don't want to go back, but I have to. The guy might hurt her. I ran back to the house. I ran inside, hoping with all my might that the idiot was still in the fields. He was. I wrote a quick letter to Mom. Here's what I wrote- Mom, I'm sorry I have to leave. I have to. Some guy was here. He found the door behind my bed. I know you know about it. I took the stuff, and I'm running. Love you Mom. Drake. It was quick and to the point. I put it only somewhere where she would find it- inside her favorite coffee mug. She uses it each night at dinner. Perfect hiding spot. I dashed out the door, one final time. He was standing there with a sly smile. My eyes opened wide. I ran for the front. I made it, and bolted for the woods. Again. I looked over my shoulder, and said goodbye to my little cottage. Bye Mom. I thought, as I turned to face the oncoming pines.