Don't Look Back

Chapter 1

"I can't just leave, Jack. If I leave then what becomes of you? Of mom and dad?" I asked my older brother, my back pressed against the heavy steel door that separated me and him from whatever was outside.
"Look, if mom was able to trade you away for some book, what else would she be willing to do? If you leave at least you can steal the book and keep it safe." He said, fiddling our father's hunting rifle in his hands.
"She needed to protect the book. Do you know what kind of secrets that thing holds? If she needs to give me up to save the rest of the world so be it." I said, I could hear the hell hounds scratching at our front door, the frightened whispers of my parents bounced off of the outside of the cold steel. My mom had made the deal ten years ago, and now the time had come for her reckoning. Or mine at least.
"Listen, Sylvia. I can't let you die because of some book. You're the only one left in our family who really cares about hunting. Mom is too old to hunt now and dad is a drunk, and I'm getting married in two weeks. You're the only one to carry on our name. You have to take the book and leave. Don't-" Jack didn't have to finish before I heard my mother scream. I grabbed the machete off of the table and flung the steel door open. My parents were huddled on the couch in the parlor, three invisible hell hounds surrounding them. I could tell there were more coming, I could hear the faint growling in the distance. I ran towards my parents and bent down behind them.
"Guess it's my time, huh." I said plainly, my father turned around to look at me, a pain in his eyes.
"Syl, you have to leave. You have to get away from here. Do not worry about us. " he whispered to me. I closed my eyes tight, trying to block out what he had said. But I knew he was right. I knew I had to protect that book. I stood and swiftly ran down the hall, into my parents bedroom. I could hear the sound of windows crashing as more hell hounds bounded inside. I grabbed a bag out of my mom's closet and stuffed the book in the bottom, along with clothes and any weapons I could find. I took salt, and the small book of spells my uncle made. I heard gun shots, and the sound of my mother's deafening screams. I ran back down the hall only to see my mother, dead on the floor. Her left leg severed and her heart gone. My father and brother desperately trying to fight off the hounds with what little they had. I shook the tears out of my eyes and bounded back down the hall and into my room. I grabbed a flashlight and my phone, and my journal I've kept since I was 10. I opened my window and jumped out, landing solidly on the muddy ground. I heard one last gun shot, and a scream, before I ran. I ran to the garage and got into my father's 1969 Boss 429 Mustang, we called her Penny because she was painted a copper color. I threw the bag in the trunk and turned the key, Renegade by Styx came on which seemed fitting enough. I revved the engine and spun out of my drive way, going 60 before I was even on the road. I didn't know where I was going, but I knew I had to get far away from my small town of Osceola, Wisconsin. I figured I'd head down until I reached Ohio, I've always been familiar with it since my grandparents used to live there. I got on the freeway and booked it all the way down to the southern most tip of Wisconsin, driving the across the border into Illinois.

It didn't occur to me that my family was dead until I passed a Dairy Queen. My dad loved Dairy Queen, more than any fancy restaurant you could think of. When I was younger, Friday night was always Dairy Queen night. We'd go to St. Croix and sit outside on the benches eating bacon burgers and oreo blizzards on the hot summer nights. Jack would always get a mosquito up his nose and mom would always have to dig it out. I realized I would never have that again. I would never hear my father's laughter as he watched King of The Hill, I would never hear my brother tease me about the mole on the tip on my nose and call me Rudolph. I never even said goodbye to them. I never said anything. I pulled over off of a dirt road and leaned my forehead against the steering wheel. I am only 23, and I just lost the only family I had left. I began to cry, then I began to weep. The life of a hunter is mysterious and cruel, and I always knew this day would come in the back of my mind. It would either happen to me or Jack. I slammed my fists against my thighs over and over, trying to distract myself from the pain I felt in my heart. I lifted my head and wiped my tears with my mother's leather jacket. At least I had things that reminded me of them. I turned back onto the road and followed my GPS until I reached a motel on the edge of Springfield, Illinois. I got my bag out of the trunk and walked inside, a man with a dirty shadow of stubble smiled wearily at me, his three teeth glistening yellow in the painfully bright light of the fluorescent bulbs. I smiled back with the same weariness and placed twenty dollars on the counter.
"One room please, preferably no bed bugs." I said half jokingly. He snorted and handed me a room key, the number 356 faded in black sharpie marker on the brass.
"Good luck with that." He said, cigarette ashes cascading off his lips. I nodded my head and walked down the hall. I found my room and gingerly slid the key into the slot, turned it, and opened the door. The room smelled of moth balls and cheap tobacco. I set my bag down on the stained burgundy lounge chair and inspected the room. It wasn't half bad. The bed looked decently clean, and the sickening beige and salmon colored wallpaper was only peeling a little bit. So far I didn't see any feces or other bodily fluids so I wasn't bothered. I switched on the clunky, box style TV to the nature channel because it's the only thing that's not porn, and sat down the bed. It was some show about the importance of toads, which sounds boring but when you think about it compared to "barely legal" porn it's actually quite interesting. I peeled off my black skinny jeans and the rest of my mostly black clothing and changed into my pajamas which consisted of a Rudolph t-shirt Jack got me for christmas and shorts with jalapeños on them. I carefully took the top duvet off of the bed and threw it on the floor, as that part is the one they wash the least, and covered myself up with the flimsy, paper-like white sheets. I turned the light off and continued to watch the documentary about toads, voiced by a man who sounded like his wife had just left him. I checked my phone for messages, of course there were none. The only people that ever contacted me was my family and they were, well, unavailable. I could feel my eyelids getting heavier and heavier, and before I knew it, I was out like a light.

The next day I woke up to a TV show about the mating rituals of the Amazon rainforest's various types of monkeys. You'd be surprised what some marsupials do to get some action. I crawled out of bed and pulled on my clothes from yesterday, don't worry, I smelled them first. I got my key and bag and headed down to the breakfast they served which consisted of half done sausage, cold pancakes, and stale cereal. I grabbed a coffee to go and gave the key back to the man at the counter.
"Have a good one." He said, his voice groggy from the morning air.
"Yourself." I mumbled on my way out the door, zipping up my leather jacket. I chucked the bag in the trunk and headed for Indiana. I was hoping I could just pass through without stopping, I don't want to figure out what the motels look like in Indiana. I got on to the freeway and sat back in my seat. I still didn't quite know where I was going. I didn't even know if I was gonna make it to where I wanted to be.

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Author's Note:
Hello! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter! Don't worry, it will start to really pick up in the next couple coming chapters. If you have any suggestions for what you would like to see or anything at all please don't hesitate to message me or leave a comment! It is greatly appreciated. See you soon.