Tornado Season

I staggered through the door just passed 2AM, pretending I was drunker than I actually was so my parents didn’t ask questions and I could just slip up to my room. The light in the kitchen was on and I was confused. They were usually asleep.

“Mom?” I called. I got no answer. “What are you doing up?”

When nobody answered again, I shrugged it off, guessing they left the light on when they went to bed. I ignored it and went upstairs to my bedroom. I slipped off my heels and tossed them to the corner of my room. I lay myself on my bed and shut my eyes. It had been a long night and my feet were killing me.

“No!” I heard someone scream from downstairs. It sounds like my mom, and something was terribly wrong. I jumped up and ran down the stairs. My heart stopped dead when I reached the kitchen. I found a man standing above my mother with a knife. I didn’t breathe, or move, in fear he might come closer to me.

“Looks like the daughter has decided to join us!” he grinned. “Good, it was getting a little boring since dad made a fuss.”

He jerked his thumb to the corner of the room and I saw my dad lying face down, breathing heavily. Blood poured from his chest and he was tied up. I let in a sharp breath, covering my mouth quickly. I didn’t know what to do. I just stood there, staring.

“Don’t be shy! Tell us your name, beautiful.”

“Leave her alone!” my mom screamed through her restraints, struggling to set herself free.

“Don’t do that, Darlin’, you saw what happened to Mr. escape artist,” the man laughed, shaking his head and looking over at my dad.

“What are you doing?” I whispered. I knew he didn’t hear me. I swallowed and tried again, “Who are you? What are you doing? Why are you doing this?”

He walked close to me and I felt my body stiffen. “Well, you can call me Matty. I just stopped by to say hello.” His breath was warm on my face and I could feel the tears stinging my eyes as I tried to speak again.

“Leave them alone,” I demanded quietly.

“Why would I do that? The fun’s only starting,” he draped his arm around me, the knife settling lightly on a spot near my throat. He walked me closer to my mother. “Besides, we’ve been waiting for you.”

“Get away from her!” My mother screamed again. It was muffled through the rag around her mouth, but audible. She had tears rolling fast down her face as she tried to pull out of the sheets tying her to the chair.

“You really did make one pretty little thing. Quite the looker,” Matty grinned, caressing my hair with his empty hand. I shut my eyes and tried not to move, in fear the knife would sink deeper into my skin that it rested on. “Tell me your name, lovely.”

I kept my eyes shut and kept my focus on breathing regularly. Maybe if I stayed this way long enough, it would all disappear. Maybe it was a dream.

He sighed, “Didn’t you hear me? What’s your name?” I heard him suck air through his teeth and he gripped my arm with his left hand.

“It’s Scarlett,” I murmured, closing my eyes tighter. I swallowed the lump in my throat before the tears started to fall.

“Scarlett,” he said, holding my name on his tongue, almost tasting it. “Odd. Almost makes you wonder what was going on in Mommy’s head…”

“Leave them alone,” I shot; surprised I was even able to say anything.

He paused, his eyes wide, “What did you say?”

“Just let them go.” My voice had gotten softer, almost more frightened.

“Nobody’s going anywhere,” he smirked. Before I could stop it, his knife was slicing into my collarbone. He dragged it up and pulled away. I hissed in pain and my mother screamed.

I couldn’t look down, fearing how wounded I actually was. I was sure he wanted to kill me. That’s what he was here for, to kill and get out. Maybe rob us, I didn’t know, but I was sure I was going to die.

“You shouldn’t talk back to me, Scarlett. I don’t like that much,” he said, dropping the knife to the floor next to my feet. I fell to the ground after it, not to grab it, but I could no longer feel my feet. I was numbing, and I didn’t know what was going on.

Was this dying? Everything goes numb and then you’re gone? I looked up at the man; he was by my mother again. She was struggling and trying to back away from him, but it was no use. He had her.

My eyes trailed across the floor to my father. The pool of blood had settled around him and he’d stopped breathing. He was dead. Was I going the same way?

The screeching from my mother snapped me back into reality. He had a gun at her head. He was laughing softly, whispering something to her. I noticed then that I was crying. Her eyes met mine and the shot sounded. And everything went black.