• Chapter 1
    First Steps a Duesy
    I woke up in a cold sweat and my hand grasped for the knife that should have been there. By the moonlight was I able to catch a glimpse of the blade. Grabbing for it, this time able to distinguish, I jumped to the corner of my bed and crouched. The springs echoing my movements making me all the more agile. Then I realized, it was just a dream. A minute passed as a grin spread across my face and all I could do was laugh darkly at the circumstances. This happened all the time, but it had gotten progressively worse lately. My luck had never been good, but it was the first time in years my dreams had completely woke me and turned me into some sort of terrified animal. I threw the knife to the ground in disgust. Only then did I notice the cut across the palm of my fingers as blood splattered my sheets. What a way to start the day.
    I placed my feet on the cold oak floor. I left the knife where it had landed planted in the wooden planks. Welcoming the nerves the cold brought with it I walked to the Gothic style master bathroom. The sink was more of a basin and all of the fittings where made with the same oak wood covered in a dark red stain. The white porcelain contrasted greatly against it's resting place. The sides of the room where covered in wallpapers lavished with carvings at the base. My father insisted that the house stay historical while my mother wouldn't settle for just a bathtub. During the beginning when their marriage had been good they compromised. They kept the 18th century feel, but with modern livable upgrades. The shower was blended well with the rest though. It stood in the corner. It was all brass knobs as the rest of the plumbing, though it had a bit more of a shine to it. I just thought the place was creepy.
    I started the shower full blast. Not bothering to bandage the cut I undressed quickly. I dropped my cloths on the spreading pattern of the tile and stepped in. I felt the burning warmth of the water hit my body and creeping feelings of the it sinking into my scalp. It sent chills down my body. My nerves were on edge worse than ever thanks to some sort of sleeping disorder that my old and reliable shrink couldn't even explain. His words were “ I can't try to help you without knowing what is troubling you.” How was I expose to tell him in my dreams I was forced to do things that would land me the death penalty? Or that sometimes I even enjoyed doing these things. The pain of the cuts being torn open again by the water pressure brought me back to reality and I shut the water off. I wanted to forget everything and fall into a normal life as people did.
    Stepping through your front door to smell a delicious meal awaiting your presence. A caring wife that soothed the aches away or a skyline life of forever boldness and deceit. Expensive liquor with girls to match. All these things, common dreams dreamed by man. Yet all these things seemed out of my reach. Not physically, no. I could easily put on a front and succeed by calculation. Simply give and take, but mentally I was incapable. I feel little happiness in anything. My body and soul are sore and numb at the same time. I stepped out and grabbed a towel. The blood slightly smudge the white linen leaving a dark blotch of red. Most of the bleeding has stopped though. I quickly dried off and with the towel wrapped around my waist and shaved at the sink. I hadn't really had the chance to look at myself properly. I was sorry I had. I knew I had not been eating, but I hardly recognized myself. As the razor scraped my two day beard away I felt ashamed. The man looking back at me was not someone I knew. My face was haggard and gaunt. Dark circles rested under my once blue eyes that now wavered gray. I finished and splashed water on my face the coolness soothing the burn. I threw all of my things back into the bag I had stuffed all of my personal belongings in and started off toward my car to grab my clothes.
    I kept telling myself I was going to unpack my all of two suitcases, but I was just procrastinating in the case that I decided to flee like I did eleven years ago. I would never let myself forget that. There was nothing here for me, but at least I could have figured it all out when there was some sort of trail or even anybody in the town who could remember my face. Just a reminensc of the events that took place in this house were now almost lost. There was nobody who would opening speak of the events and most had just tried to forget because it didn't involve them or their pristine life.
    As I cotinued to my car I had to stop at the staircase that ran through the foyer. It was different as a child. I used to love this place along with my life here, but now it just hurt. I continued walking down the spiralling steps until I had to come stoop a second time at the last step. I was barely able to stiffen the sobs as all the memories washed back. Settling in like shard of glass on a poluted coastline. They embedded themselves once again and the pain was restored. An idescribable pain that only a few can understand. They said it would go away. All of the people that supposedly cared about me had promised I would heal with time. I would become better even as I was constantly reminded of how much it hurt. It took me years on my own to understand that I could never forget the pain. Now it was haunting me once again. I carried myself on shear willpower and came to the Living room to see the sheet covered furniture. I couldn't recollect all of the pieces of my past, but what was left was agonizing. I forced my way to the old ornate rug at the front door. I opened one of the stained glass paned double doors that took up the front of the house in glory and walked down the stone paved path to the driveway to where my car was parked. I grabbed the two suitcases and carried them back upstairs to the room I was taking quarters in.
    I refused to touch my parent's or my baby sister's room. Their memories would be kept just as they were until somebody else wanted to rummage through them. That left this guestroom and my bedroom. I really just wanted to throw everything out of my old bedroom and the nail the door shut. I'm sure my mother would not have approved though. So for now I was living in the room I had the least contact with as a child. The room for guest my family never seemed to use.
    I grabbed a pair of jeans and my two year old sneakers from the bottom of my suitcase. Then a shirt and some brief from the other. I quickly got dressed and walked downstairs into the kitchen. I opened the fridge to find nothing but dust. The cabinets were no better. I went to the cupboard only to find two cans of green beans next to a box of very old macaroni and cheese. Not that I didn't take to multiple year old food. I just wasn't hungry. I hadn't been eating much so it wouldn't hurt to skip another meal, but I did need some sort of food in the house considering it's depleted content at the moment. I walked outside once again and got into the car. The cold leather ran across the back of my neck sending chills down my spine. The one thing I loved about being back was the cool mountain air. The city was always so hot during the summer. Here it was nice. It was just that goddamn house that haunted me like none other.
    I put it in gear and drove through the grass to turn around. When I first came into town I went straight back home to search the place for clues or just anything at all that would help the situation of getting back for my sisters sake. I would be fooling myself if I said I wouldn't enjoy it. Now that I needed to navigate, I wasn't so sure of myself. I knew where the general store, gas station, and the middle and high school were. Other than that; he town had changed so much since I had been younger. The actual drive to town took around thirty minutes. The driveway was gravel and as I drove out onto the road the tires spun a little.
    I arrived at the local grocery store. I stepped out of my car and my shoes made a crunching suppression sound as they contacted the ground. The morning air made sure I was fully awake by greeting me with it's wispy kiss across my face.
    The store was in stark contrast to the surrounding scenery. It gave the woody outdoors a kind of commercialized look that just made it look out of place. Like the postcards you send to your parents when you go on some cheap vacation. I looked back over my shoulder and saw that my car and what I assumed to be the cashier's car where the only ones in the parking lot. The inside of the store was just as the outside. Bright signs everywhere announcing prices that wouldn't be around forever yet they never seemed to come down. I found my way to the dairy section grabbed a jug of milk and then a carton of eggs nearby. The grungy tile and the yellow light just made me want to drop everything, just go back to my car, and speed away never to be seen again. I somehow ended back up by the counter with a bounty in hand. The clerk managed to notice me and then act like she hadn't.
    "Good mornin! I'll be right with you", She turned and bent over to fumbly with something then walked over with a bounce in her step that made her shirt seem too tight. She finally made it to the cash register and took her time scanning everything. She gave me a total of forty-two dollars and forty-nine cents. I flipped through my wallet to get the cash and she gave me a toothy grin when she saw the hundred that made most of it's thickness.
    Turns out she hadn't gotten the drawer ready and she had to go back to the service desk to get the change. She walked around pretending to drop stuff and laugh at seemingly nothing. Her shrill voice rang out loudly in the empty store. She finally was able to give me my money back, but she first wrote down her number on my receipt. She leaned over the counter and stuffed it all too blatantly obvious into my pocket. I wasn't going to be rude to the lady, but I really didn't want to have anything to do with her. I half halfheartedly smiled and walked back to my car not daring to glance back.
    I was almost back to the the place I dreaded to call home when I starting thinking. I needed to find a place to start. The only other person that could give me what I needed was an old friend of mine. I'm sure he would relish a call from the small town boy whose family was slaughtered.