I felt an ice cold sadness stab through me as I tore my gaze away from the note. Goodbye, my beautiful Ember. May you find happiness always. I love you so much and I am so proud to of had a daughter like you. Love, Dad.
My hands, I noticed, were trembling in what seemed to be horror, anger, and fear. My light amber eyes had darkened and became dull as I watched my mom trudge down the stairs in her soft, light pink robe.
There were dark circles underneath her eyes and dried mascara on her cheeks as if she had been crying. "This is all your fault." I hissed, my words wobbly, sounding like I was about to burst out into sobbing.
She let her optics rest on me for a moment, but ignored my words and slowly made her way into the kitchen. I followed her, glaring and not letting my gaze falter. She looked uncomfortable, knowing I was watching her. A tear fell from her dark eyes and she sniffled.
I almost felt bad for her. The wind had picked up outside and it was howling against our windows, shoving branches at the side of the house, and there was a constant thump, thump!
"I'm sorry, Ember." she sighed silently, and raised a hand up to put on my shoulder, but I flinched backwards. She blinked at me in hurt but shook her head. "If you hate me so much, then why do you stay here?" her voice was barely audible, and it sounded as if she was talking to herself. But I answered anyway.
"You're right, I won't." I retorted, her words offending me. I was in such a pained daze that I didn't know what I was doing when I ran to my room to pack. I grabbed a huge black travel bag and stuffed ten pairs of clothes in, money, some deodorant, a brush, a machete (in case of danger), and a pocketknive.
I whipped my head around, almost completely packed to see my mother standing with her hand clutched onto my door frame. "I didn't mean it!" she exclaimed quietly, her voice raspy and dry. I gave her a quick look of no emotion, and pushed past her to go downstairs.
I opened the pantry and stuffed many cans of soup and other unparishible food into the bag. And, reluctantly, I snatched a picture off the wall of our family, smiling and laughing. My heart almost shattered to pieces. I shook my head until it hurt, as if trying to get the longing thoughts out of my head.
I was almost to the door when I noticed my mother weeping and trying to catch up to me. "Please stay!" her words were muffled by tears. I shook my head 'no', and narrowed my eyes in pain at her sad face. I shoved past her and opened the door, walking onto the sidewalk, with my huge pack and with no idea where I was going.
This is when my endless adventure begins.
The sun was just awakening from its slumber when I had gotten one block away. The bag was beginning to feel heavy and my shoulders ached with the weight. The neighborhood I was in wasn't very safe and I shuddered at the thought of being hurt, killed, or kidnapped.
Nonetheless, I could barely walk with the heaviness so I sat down on the edge of the street, my bag next to me. I had dug into my bag earlier, clutching the machete in my hands, feeling a bit more safe. I twirled the huge knive in my hand, looking at my reflection from the shiny siler metal.
I was about to leave when a teenager who looked about 16 approached me. "Hey! Whatta'ya doin' here?" he growled, and I caught a whiff of his cigarette smelling breath. I crossed my arms and stared at him. "Resting. This isn't your place, you don't own it." I sneered in return.
He looked surprised, as if nobody had ever stood him up before. In anger, he grabbed the wrist that wasn't holding the machete and slammed me down. There was a ringing in my head as I gingerly touched my forehead that was trickling with blood. Pain shot through me and I winced.
Without thinking, I punched him in the gut and threw him face down onto the sidewalk. I grabbed the machete and thrust it into his back. Scarlet blood gushed out of him and a pool of liquid surrounded him. I gasped in horror as I realized what I did.
He wasn't moving so I didn't know if he was dead or alive. I shook in fear as I slowly grabbed my travel bag and raced out of the neighborhood as fast as I could. I wasn't aware of the blaring of sirens behind me. I wasn't aware of myself being thrown into a police car.
I woken up in a shiny, white room with a desk and a sign that said, 'Interrogation Room' My heart starting beating fast as I remembered what had happened a few hours before. A police officer drove the door open and let it fall to a close. She had long, thin blonde hair that was pulled back into a neat bun.
The lady gave me a fake smile. "I'm Julie Haven. Do you know why we are questioning you today?" she asked in a sweet, sugary voice. I already knew that I hated her. "Because you saw me running with a blood-soaked machete, away from what looked like a murder scene?" I answered innocently.
She gave me a grim look. "Exactly. And where are your parents?" A dark look flashed through my eyes but I stared back at her, a lie prepared for her. "They're missionaries, they're away." I answered immediately. Julie looked like she didn't believe it. "Okay, I think we both know that isn't true." her voice was brittle and not sweet anymore,
"Oh? Well don't tell them, they'd be horrified. Thinking they were doing the Lord's work and all." I leaned back into the chair, stifling a snort of laughter. Julie looked disgusted, but just as she was about to ask another question, a tall man walked in. "I'll take it from here." he muttered. I drew in a narrow breath of nervousness. The police chief.
Author Notes: WIP (Finished chapter. Please review!!)
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