chapter eight
853 Words
THESE MEN WERE TALL. Extremely tall. Each of every race, you could ever imagine.
I felt as if they were staring into my soul, which crept me out more than just a little.
Well, I couldn't get even more confused than I already was as to how I got myself in this situation. First I was running from a pack of wolves, then turned around and started talking to them and now I'm here, standing in the middle of some cult of blurred, tall men.
I kept my eyes on the ones in front of me. Despite not seeing their faces, I could tell they were not of my ethnicity. Not only that, but they held such danger in the atmosphere, I wanted to leave, asap.
"Remi," I heard one say. I couldn't tell who it was from, but it was from in front of me. His voice was loud and commanding, holding dominance in the way he formed his words. "Look around you."
Hesitating, I slowly looked around me and saw the wolves, which were not where they were before, scattered with blood. Their bodies quickly sinking into the earth. All of their eyes were closed peacefully except the green-eyed wolf, who was staring directly at me.
My eyes widened, holding a mixture of shock and fear and my entire body shivered, "Who are you people? And what have you done to these wolves?"
The same voice from earlier laughed and one of the men stepped forward, opening up his arms and looking down upon my five feet, three inches. "Ohhh, Remi Harper. You're a very bold little girl to assume we did it. Perhaps, you did it."
"I would never do such a thing." I said and folded my arms, "What nonsense are you talking about?"
His laughter sent a chill down my back, and he stepped closer to me, reaching out his hands to touch my hair, "You see. As this was blown in front of your face, you lost sight of your only advice. And another thing," He deeply inhaled my hair and walked behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. I kept my face forward, not daring to look at him. My breath pleading me to let it out, but I somehow forgot how to breathe.
"If you had listened to what they were telling you, you would've understood what was going on." He pulled something out of his pocket and put it in front of my face so I could see.
It was a knife.
A knife with my mother's initials embordered on the handle.
"Where did you get that?" I asked underneath my breath.
"I can't hear you." He teased me and pulled it away from my sight. He stepped in front of me, "Please speak up. It's quite rude to mumble to an elder."
"I said," I huffed up my chest, "Where did you get that?" I became bolder and took a step towards him, but tripped over something.
"Umph-" I cried, and all the men started to laugh.
"I cannot believe she is her mother's child!" One hollered, and somehow the comment was amusing because the whole cult began to roar.
My body felt as if it was beginning to fill with static, and I placed my hand on the foot to help me up.
The...
foot?
With my hands stuck to the pale foot, I trailed my eyes up to see who's foot I tripped. Their body was covered in blood, and they held their hand on their stomach, which was soaked in the red liquid.
My grandmother's body laid lump beside me and I immediately stiffened, my heart stopped beating and I slowly looked up to her face.
"This is your fault," She managed to say, "If you hadn't taken your eyes off of the wolves, they would've never gotten us." She began to cough out blood, all of it splattering on me, and I began to cry.
I couldn't take it anymore.
What was going on?
Why was everyone against me?
She laughed at the pain shown on my face, before pointing at the men, "Now you have to join them."
I looked over at them, my face pale and my head started to hurt.
Something was not right.
All the blurry faces started laughing at me, each stepping closer and closer to me.
My heart began to pound until it pounded right out of my chest, and I looked down to see it laying in my hands, covered in the white substance I had seen earlier when being chased my the wolves.
What was it? And why was it coming from me?
My feet began to sink into the earth and my heart began to turn into a somewhat familiar face. But the face felt so foreign to me.
How was I still alive without a beating heart? And why was everything so haywire? And why was I not letting go of my heart?
The heart I held hold of began to speak, "Look at you! All grown up. My baby girl. It's your dad!"
"Dad?" My father was dead. Both of them were, so why was my dead father speaking to me?
"Remi, listen to me and listen good. Find the book. Keyword, closet." I heard him say before I sank into the earth to be with the wolves.
855 words
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