Marked By Him

Chapter 9

10 years ago...

It’s my birthday today.

Ma and I are in the kitchen, baking my birthday cake. Ma has a flour on her face, and so do I. We laugh because I tell Ma, “Look, Ma, we look like clowns.” Pa is coming home soon from work. Killian is in his room, blasting music that shakes the house as if there’s an earthquake.

Ma wipes the flour off her hands and stomps up the stairs to Killian's room.

I’m perched on the kitchen chair, feet dangling, sneakily sticking my finger in the chocolate batter and then into my mouth as I wait for Ma to come back downstairs so we can finish baking the cake.

I hear Ma yell over the music: “What is this ruckus? I told you to keep it down!” I imagine Killian rolling his eyes at Ma; he always does that when Ma or Pa yells at him. “Don’t you dare roll your eyes at me, young man! Keep the noise down, you hear? I’m going to beat some sense into you if you don’t!”

Killian keeps the noise down, and Ma and I finish baking the cake by the time Pa comes home from his office job. Maya and Em come to my party, with a few other kids from primary school. Some of Killian’s friends show up too. There are also grownups at my party—Ma and Pa's friends.

“Come on, dance for us. We’ll give you candy,” the grownups say, and of course we dance because we want candy. Lots of candy.

Everything is fun. Everything is good.

*

A scream—an ear-splitting, blood-curdling scream—jolts me up from sleep that night.

I jump out of bed, and then I hide in the corner of my room with my hands over my ears. A few minutes later, the door bursts open and Killian barges into my room as if the wind pushed him inside. I can see it’s him because I always sleep with my lights on.

There’s commotion outside my room, somewhere in the house. The screaming doesn’t stop. And then I hear growling too.

Killian closes my bedroom door with a soft click and then— “Come on, we have to hide,” he whispers urgently. I’ve never seen Killian so scared in my life—eyes wide open, filled with fear and hand trembling when it hold my own trembling hand. Killian hides us in my closet.

“Where’s Ma and Pa?”

“Ma and Pa are okay,” he says. “Okay?”

I nod.

Crash! The sound of breaking glass echoes throughout the house. I flinch, and so does Killian.

Tears fall down my cheeks. “Ki—” Killian puts his hand over my mouth, shutting me up.

“Shh,” he hisses.

Silent. The house goes eerily silent. Killian’s breathing becomes heavier, so he puts his free hand over his own mouth. In the hallway, the floorboards creak. And then my bedroom doors opens, slowly.

“I smell them,” a scarily deep voice say.

“They must be here somewhere,” another voice says, just as scary sounding.

“Check in the closet.”

My eyes go wide, and I would have screamed if Killian’s hand wasn’t over my mouth.

Footsteps approach the closet.

Close.

Closer.

And then the closet door flings open, pulled off its hinges. Right before us stands a burly man, all-scary looking.

“They’re here, Boss.”

“Bring them to me.” It’s that scarily deep voice again.

Killian fights him, resisting him, shouting to the burly man, “Let her go!” as he holds me by the collar, my feet in the air. I scream.

In his other hand, the burly man holds Killian like he weighs nothing. And just like me, his feet are in the air, held by the collar of his pajama shirt.

The man takes to the man who he calls Boss, who is sitting on my bed, legs crossed. He has shoulder-length raven hair, brown eyes and slashing scar that runs down his right brow down to his cheek; the scar miraculously missed his eye. He’s handsome. If possible, the scar makes him look more handsome.

“They are children,” he says, studying us when we’re thrown down at his feet.

The Boss is holding a handkerchief which he is using to wipe off the blood on his hands. A chill runs down my back at the sight of his bloody hands. There are two werewolves standing guard at my bedroom door whose white furs are stained and dripping with blood. I think about Ma and Pa. Where are they?

"What do you want us to do, Boss?"

"Leave them. We don't take kids. They are too much of a hassle." The Boss stands to his feet.

"Can I speak my mind, Boss?"

The Boss nods.

"I think we should take this one," he says, jutting his chin down at Killian. "He looks old enough."

The Boss looks down at Killain, considering. "Leave them," he says with finality.

"But—"

"Did I say you can talk?"

"No, Boss."

"Then shut up." He walks to my door. "Let's go."

And then they are all gone. Killian and I remain on the floor, our bodies shaking, as we listen to them walk down the stairs and out the door. The second we hear the door close with a bang, Killian is already out of my room, shouting, "Ma? Pa?" His voice sounds so broken.

I follow behind him.

"Go back to your room, " he says without looking at me.

"I want Ma and Pa?" I say, voice small.

"Ma and Pa are okay," he says, turning to look at me. If Ma and Pa are okay, then why is he crying? "Go back to your room."

"I want Ma and Pa!"

He crouches down in front of me, hands on my shoulders. "I'm going to go get them, okay? Go back to your room."

I shake my head. "I want Ma and Pa."

He sighs, head hanging low. "Fine," he says and then he stands up and continues walking down the hallway and down the stairs, feet bare like mine.

When we make it downstairs, the living room is wrecked — furniture is broken and glass is shattered. But what makes Killian throw up and me scream so loud my throat hurts is our parents lying dead on the carpet, brutally killed with their throats torn off, their blood painting the white floor a bright red.

Killian lied to me—Ma and Pa are not okay.