Jenny stared out her window into the black abyss that would be the backyard. It has been a nightly ritual to her now, for the past three years. For an hour after the sun would set and the air of night crept into all creation, she would stand watch. She constantly had to pull her curly dark hair out of her face, afraid of what might happened if she blinked. The scars on her torso, arms and legs burned each night. She knew Jack was looking for her. What was worse is she knew he wasn’t Jack anymore. Her once protective and loving brother warped into that being, that creature their senile grandmother created. She knew he was Osiris now. And she knew Osiris wanted to finish the job.
Unlike Osiris, Jenny was given to more stable family members (she was never told where her brother is). Outside her bedroom door watched her Aunt Cindy. She was her aunt by marriage, but she tried to take care of Jenny as her own daughter. Cindy watched closely, rubbing her arms. Goosebumps begin to appear on her smooth ebony skin. Cindy walked away from the bedroom door to go check the thermostat.
Cindy looked at the temperature. She tilted her head. She was nearly shivering and it was 80 degrees. It made no since to her; she tapped the indicator a little too hard and broke a nail. She grimaced and retracted her hand, scanning it. It was a close snap too!
Cindy made her way to the kitchen to get some glue for her nail. She wanted to be quick so she picked up her pace. Suddenly, as she hurried into the kitchen she slipped on the tile. With a soft thud she landed in a dazed. Her rolls rolled in pain. After a few seconds she began to focus again. But someone was on top of her. A young boy, barely in his teenage years had his foot on her throat. He was pale, paler than anything Cindy has ever seen in her life. This boy had the eyes of a beast, not anything of human. It flashed a smile of sharp, white canines. It was the same smile a cat would give to a lizard before dismembering it. Cindy tried to scream but the foot on her neck made even breathing impossible. The pale boy twisted his foot with force and speed. He didn’t have shoes on, he had cleats. With the friction the small spikes had and the forced on the tender jugular, her neck slit open. The white tile stained with the blood of innocence.
“Oh Jenny. Why did you kill your aunt?” the pale boy laughed.
Jenny shot up from her bed. She strained her ears and picked up some sort of sobbing from downstairs. She jumped out of her bed and ran down the stair cases. She held her pajama bottoms up so she wouldn’t trip over them. Her fears were confirmed when she was caught her cousin. Her eyes went wide. In the kitchen was her aunt, neck slit. Her uncle was in the corner with his fellow police officers.
Her cousin lost her grip and Jenny ran to the body but was stopped by her cousin again. She heard her whisper, “Isn’t those your softball cleats, Jen?”