Running from Hell - Chapter 1

Chapter one
A silent house. That was what I woke up to. There was nothing moving, nothing breathing. The silence was worrying. Normally mum would be walking around, with Billy wailing for her. Dad would be in the shower, singing a song by an old band that I’ve never heard of. But there was no noise. No sign of there being anyone else in the house.
I assumed that they were all playing a trick on me. Being quiet and hiding behind the sofa, waiting for me to appear. Then they would jump out, like they always did. How very wrong I was.
The creak of the stairs made me jump, as I day-dreamed about them jumping out at me. I peered back up the stairs. The silence that filled the air was one that terrified me. It was like the silence that fills the air, after someone has pulled the trigger of a gun, and someone has fallen to the floor. Even when my family were hiding, the silence was never this frightening.
I sighed and shook my head chuckling. My mind was playing tricks on me. Of course they were hiding. It was probably some horror movie that I had watched making me think like this.
“Ok guys, where are you?” I asked in a sarcastic voice as I walked into the living room.
I switched the light on, turned around, and screamed like I‘d never screamed before.

The Police women walked towards me and placed a cup of water in my hands. I was still in shock to notice anything different. After I’d walked into the room and screamed, I’d collapsed onto the floor. The faces of my dead family kept appearing in my mind. I didn’t know what had happened. Someone had broken in, and shot the three other people in my house, without me even realising. But how?
It was baffling the Police too. There was no sign of a break-in, and the killer had managed to commit the crime without waking me up. It was definitely something that they hadn’t encountered before.
I had recovered from the shock enough to enter the living room again. All three bodies had been removed, and now there were just three big dark patches on the carpet. I shivered and looked away.
“Sophia?” A voice floated in from my front door. I looked round, not expecting it to be anyone important, and frowned.
My mother was standing in the doorway. Her golden hair floated down past her shoulders, her clear blue eye’s softly gleaming. Mum had always had a perfect figure, but something seemed to make her look very angelic.
“Sophia, listen to me.” She said her voice like feathers. “You need to...”
“What? I need to what!” I said. But she faded away, just like that.
Ok, I thought, I’m going mad. I turned back around to find that everyone in the room was giving me very weird looks. Great, I thought, now THEY all think I’m mad.
I smiled weakly, and collapsed to the floor again.

“How are you feeling today Sophia?”
“Um....what?” I’d been so caught up in my thoughts that I hadn’t realised that Dr. Marks was even in the room. I couldn’t help but notice that Dr. Marks looked very nice in his work clothes. He had sandy blond hair, sea-blue eyes, and you could see his abs through his shirt. A little sigh escaped my lips.
“Erm..Sophia.” Darn, just missed the question again I thought. I glanced around the hospital room, too embarrassed to look at him.
Dr. Marks grinned, seemingly amused by my reaction. He obviously got it a lot, so wasn’t too offended by it.
“Well, you’re certainly not attentive today.” He stated. I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by his sarcasm.
“Sophia, how old are you?” He suddenly questioned.
“Oh, I’m 16.” I was slightly surprised as to why he would ask me this, but I tried to act indifferent.
“I’ve got a son your age. Sweet lad.” Dr. Marks sighed, and looked at me. I could tell he wanted to tell me something, but knew that he would never be forgiven if he did. But still, I acted indifferent to it. I just stared at him, almost daring him to say more. He stared back, almost daring me to ask questions.
We continued to stare at each other like this for quite some time. Yet our concentration was broken when a nurse suddenly bounced around the curtain, looking quite distressed.
“Dr. Marks, we need your assistance.”
“Is it urgent?” She paused, and then walked over to him and whispered:
“Quite. There is a lady who claims to know your patient.”
I turned to the nurse, terror climbing over me. If this was who I thought it was, then I was in serious trouble.
“Who is it.” I said.
“You heard me? I’m sorry but I-” I cut her off.
“Who. Is. It.” I said, in my fiercest tone.
The nurse looked at Dr. Marks, who nodded. He was as intrigued as I was. She sighed, knowing she was beaten.
“The woman claims to be your aunt. Her names Charlotte or something.”
I groaned. It was my aunt. The aunt I dreaded. The aunt who would kill me if she had the chance.
But then, she appeared. A large, towering shadow, waiting to pounce. She looked at me, and smiled. Her sharp teeth looked like they wanted to sink into my skin, so they could rip me apart.
“Hello Sophia.” She said. “Miss me?”
Her smile was the last thing I saw before I blacked out.


Nobody seemed to understand why I hated my aunt Charlotte. She was a “Sweet young lady” to most people. Yet when others weren’t around, a savage monster would whip me till all my soul had disappeared from my body. I would wander into school, tired and helpless, brutal marks hidden under my school uniform.
That was what had happened last time. Before my brother Billy was born, my parents went on a week’s holiday. Because it was the middle of the school term, I wasn’t allowed to go with them. So they brought in my aunt Charlotte. For the first day, she was ever so sweet. She treated me well, she didn’t beat me once, and she cooked me proper meals. But then she turned savage. Something must have clicked in her brain, because she suddenly realised she hated my guts. And that’s when the torture started.
It was 6 years ago when that happened. I was 10. I’ve not seen my aunt since then. But here she was, standing next to my bed, looking at me with such big eyes. A tear slipped down my cheek. Her eyes were so much like mums. But then she looked me in the eyes, and I turned away quickly, swiping my eyes with the cuff of my sleeve.
I must say, that Aunt Charlotte did a poor job of making conversation. She constantly asked about what had happened, when it was clear that I did not want to talk about it. But still she pressed on.
“Was it gruesome? How much blood was there?” She questioned. There was an evil glint in her eye. I knew she was doing this to make me feel uncomfortable. Eventually, I snapped.
“Will you just SHUT UP!” I yelled. She jumped, and try to apologise. I glared at her, which eventually stopped her mumbling. We sat there awkwardly, not sure what to do.
Dr. Marks walked in after about 10 minutes. The conversation had been very awkward, and I was desperate to escape.
“If you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Jones,” He said. “I need to do a final check of Sophia before she can be discharged.”
“Well I stay here then.” She replied, fiercely. Dr. Marks was not going to have her there, I could tell..
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave the room.” Dr. Marks argued back, then grabbed her arm, and gave her a push towards the curtain. Aunt Charlotte seemed surprised by this, but reluctantly, left the room. I frowned. Dr. Marks never pushed anyone, even if they were a pain.
He then turned to me, with a look of serious concern in his eyes. He quickly took a folded piece of paper, and shoved it into my hand. Bending down, he then whispered into my ear, “On this piece of paper, is my number. Use it if you get in trouble.”
I was confused. First, he was dragging my aunt around. Then, he was giving me his number. I couldn’t get my head around it.
On the car journey back to my house, I was still thinking about it. Aunt Charlotte did try and make conversation, but she could tell that I wasn’t going to talk to her, and she knew the reason all too well.
The house key was still under the mat, so I could let us in easily. I stared around the house, almost shocked at how different it was. The carpets had been completely re-done, as had the walls. All the furniture was the same, but I felt like it wasn’t ours. It felt like someone had gone and brought the exact same chairs and tables, and put them back into the different rooms. My parent’s room had been completely stripped. Aunt Charlotte said it was going to be her ‘study’, and that she was going to sleep in the spare room.
“Well then.” She said, taking in the scene. “Isn’t this cosy.” She walked over to the sofa, kicked off her shoes, and plopped herself down. Into where mum always sat. I had to physically stop myself from punching her in the face. Instead, I excused myself, and ran straight in my room.
It wasn’t until dinner time that I emerged again. I was still trying to figure out if Dr. Marks knew my Aunt Charlotte. So I confronted her, when we were both sat down eating our meals.
“Aunt Charlotte, can I ask you a question?”
“Well, you just did, but yes you can.” I snorted slightly at her bad sarcasm.
“Do you know Dr. Marks? You know, my doctor.”
She paused, contemplating her answer. It was a few minutes before she actually said anything.
“I know him vaguely from school. But otherwise, no not really.”
I nodded, and didn’t push her anymore. I was being cautious, in case she started beating me. But then, her fist suddenly went up into the air. Panicking, I leapt out of my seat, and zoomed across the room. The laugh that followed wasn’t one that I had expected. It was a laugh filled with joy, not evil. I must have looked confused, because she laughed at me some more.
It was then that I realised that she had been stretching. I smirked, trying to hold in my giggles, but ended up in hysterics. But I guess I really should have been paying more attention. Because next thing I knew, I was on the floor, with a split lip.
“Stupid little git.” She spat in my face. She then stalked off to her room, and there she stayed for the rest of the evening.

The next day, I was sat on my bed, trying to work out the date. My family were killed on the 10th June, and I was in hospital for about a week, so the date would be....I shook my head. The drugs I’d had at the hospital had totally messed up my brain. So I went to go ask Aunt Charlotte.
“Aunt Charlotte!” I yelled from the top of the stairs.
“What!” She called back.
“What’s the date?” I said loudly.
“18th June!” She called. I nodded, and walked back to my room.
I looked around my room. My walls were covered with various different pictures. They were mainly of me growing up. Several of them were of family holidays. There was some of me, mum and dad sat on a beach. Ice-cream was dripping down my face, and mum was stealing dad’s sunglasses. I must have been about 9 on that holiday.
I stopped when I got to the other side of the room. There was a picture of me, with mum, dad and Billy. It was in one of those studios, so the background was plain white. Yet we all looked so happy. Mum’s golden blonde hair was just as long as it always was. And dad’s was jet black, like the sky at night. Billy’s hair was a light, fluffy brown. I sniffed hard, not wanting to cry. Billy was only 5. I remember him coming home from the hospital, a small bundle of noise.
There was another picture above. It was of me in the hospital, with mum, dad and Billy around me. I had broken my arm and was kept in hospital overnight. The doctor who had been treating me stood in the photo, grinning. A grin crept over my face when I realized it was Dr. Marks. He was an amazing doctor, and had looked after us for many years.
Dr. Marks said he had a son. A son who was my age. I thought back to when I was in the hospital, and he had looked at me with eyes that seemed to be hiding something. Something he wanted to share. But I shook my head, knowing that it wasn’t my business.

A loud knocking was what woke me up in the morning.
I groaned, and pushed myself out of bed. Who comes knocking on your door at 8:00 in the morning? KNOCK KNOCK. It was starting to get louder, almost pleading. KNOCK KNOCK.
“I’m coming!”I yelled down the stairs. I was in the process of taming my hair, but gave up after another loud ‘knock knock’ followed.
I stormed down the stairs, threw open the door, and was about to give the ‘knocker’ a piece of my mind, when I stopped. It was Dr. Marks, and he wasn’t looking happy.
“Dr. Marks?” I held the door open. He trailed in, looking behind him nervously. He jumped when I shut the door.
“Sophia, what’s happened since you’ve been here?” He questioned.
“Um...not much.” He leaned in, examining my face. There was still a mark from where I’d been punched a few days before.
“SOPHIA!” Aunt Charlottes booming voice surprised us both. She had a strict rule about me being out of bed too early in the morning.
Dr. Marks grabbed my wrist, and pulled me behind him. I hung onto him, like I hung onto mum when I was little. Aunt Charlotte started pounding down the stairs, and soon enough she was there, looking not at me, but Dr. Marks. Peering round him, I could see the anger building up in her eyes.
She saw me, and lashed out, ready to drag me away. But Dr. Marks was already there. He caught her arm, and flung it back, so that Aunt Charlotte nearly fell over. She was now furious, but before she had time to react, PC Smith walked in. I was now confused. First Dr. Marks was at my door, now PC Smith.
Dr. Marks bent down, and whispered in my ear, “He’s going to arrest you on suspicion of murder.”
My eyes widened, and I turned to Dr. Marks in horror. He looked down, seemingly ashamed of what he had told me. Aunt Charlotte had heard what he said, and a look of delight light up her face.
“Sophia!” The voice of feathers was again floated towards me. I looked around, but there was no sign of mum. “Sophia! You need to run!” She called. I gasped. That was what she had tried to tell me before. PC Smith was already walking towards me. But I knew exactly what to do.
I walked towards him, but before he had a chance to grab me I suddenly turned, and sprinted up to my room. The roars that came from downstairs alerted me that they were probably already halfway up the staircase.
I picked up my clothes, opened the window, and went hurrying back to hide behind my door. I’d just finished pulling my shirt over my head, when the door slammed open, nearly smacking me in the face. Aunt Charlotte and PC Smith both walked towards the open window. They thought I’d jumped out of it. While they pondered about I’d ‘survived the jump’, I snuck out of the door, and quietly leapt down the stairs. I was met in the living room by Dr. Marks. He grabbed me, wished me luck, and then shoved me out of the door.
For the entire time that I was running, I had to keep rubbing my eyes to stop the tears falling down my face.

I didn’t run fast enough. The Police caught me, and dragged me back to the Police station. Great, I thought, how suspicious am I going to look.
By the time the Police had dragged me to the station, Dr. Marks and Aunt Charlotte were already waiting for me. Aunt Charlotte had a look of evil glee in her eyes. Dr. Marks looked apologetic. PC Smith wasn’t impressed with me.
I ended up sat in a small, dark room, with no windows. There was a single light hanging from the ceiling. PC Smith sat in front of me, and started to talk.
“Last week, we found a gun outside your residence.” He said, not taking his eyes off me. “Several fingerprints were found on it.”
“Well then,” I said. “Do you know who did it?” He grimaced.
“The only person whose fingerprints match the ones on the gun-” He paused, and took a deep breath. “Yours are the only matching ones.”
I stopped. It couldn’t be mine. They must have made a mistake. He shook his head, a smile starting to creep over his face.
“Because the fingerprint test is sometimes wrong, we’re going to ask you some questions.”
It was then that I noticed the lie-detecting machine on the table. I was secretly confident that I would prove them wrong, and that I would prove my innocence. PC Smith semd to sense my confidence, and rised an eyebrow. I raised one back, and he laughed lightly. This then lead to the firing of the questions.
“Were you awake at the time of the murder?”
“No.”
“Did you hold the gun at any time?”
“No.”
“Were you the one who committed the murder?”
“No.”
Time went by slowly. The questions kept on coming, and they got the same response each time. Each time I said ‘no’, the lie-detector would bleep. And every time that happened, PC Smith would sigh heavily, a sign that he was getting frustrated. Eventually, he snapped.
“Would you stop lying!” He yelled. I was surprised, but I instantly reacted.
“I’m not lying! The stupid machine doesn’t work!” I shouted back. The machine bleeped, showing my ‘lies’.
“So you’re a liar and a murderer!” He said. “I think we’d better get you arrested.”
He started to walk towards me. I didn’t know what to do. The door was shut tight, and could only be opened from the outside. PC Smith smiled, like he knew that I was panicking. Tears started to trickle down my face. But before he had a chance to get me, the door opened, and Dr. Marks marched in, grabbed my arm, and pulled me out of the room.