"Gotta run, gotta get away." I huffled as I ran through the large field beside my house. Trying to get as far away from my house as possible. I had to get help, and the nearest house was 3 miles away. I ran as fast and as hard as I could, willing my legs to keep moving. I hit the forest beyond the fields at a dead sprint. "Almost there," I thought. Tears streamed down my face as I thought of my husband and children all slaughtered. All lying dead in my house when I came home from the store. I risked a glance over my shoulder and saw my 13 year old daughter Laurie about a quarter mile behind me, stuck in a bramble bush. Thank God she wasn't home when our family was killed. "Mommy! Help me!" She shreaked. I immediately headed for her, pulling her out of the bushes and into my arms. "Oh, my sweet baby! I'm so glad you're oka-" Those words died on my lips when I noticed she was covered in blood, not a drop of it her own. Her eyes were completely black and smiled, flashing two rows of razor sharp teeth. This was not my daughter.
