Esme Hunt

1

I thought I knew sadness, pain, fear. I never thought my life would end up like this.

When I was younger, I dreamed of a perfect life, getting a job, a husband, a family. Now all I have left are the clothes that I'm wearing and the minimal amount of belongings in my backpack. Eight weeks ago, my parents died in a car crash. The funeral was closed casket, so no one  have to see their disfigured bodies. They were on the run from the police, when the cops fired on them. Dad shot back, but Mum took a bullet to the heart. Blood crept across her shirt, staining it crimson, and her eyes stared into the distance, seeing nothing. Her body slumped across the wheel and the car spun sideways into the cop vehicle. They collided, and I managed to leap out of the back seat a second before both cars exploded into a blast of scorching fire. Both my parents and the officers died a gruesome death.

 If dad hadn't stolen that car last summer, none of this mess would have ever happened. I don't blame Dad, as our family would have been living on the sidewalk if he hadn't gotten that money from giving the car to a lady who we later identified to be criminal Rosa Youth. She is number one on America's most wanted list, a sadistic murderer and torturer of the innocent. The car was a Porsche 911 Turbo S convertible, painted a deep blue and worth a fortune. Dad had stolen it back, as he needed a getaway car to escape the police. My little brother, Jacob, was stabbed to death by Rosa Youth when she found out about Dad reclaiming the car. She threw a knife and it pinned my hand against the wall. "You're next!" And with that she ran out of the house, her oversized leather jacket billowing out behind her.

At the funeral, a cop stands on either side of me, ready to catch me if I try and leave. I am going questioning at the police station afterwards for interrogation. The cops think I murdered my brother, and my parents were trying to drive me to the safety of another town. I was alone in this world, all my family either in another country or long dead.

The funeral lasted a lifetime as I drowned out the priest and fell into the endless tornado of my thoughts. Was I a criminal? Was Rosa Youth really going to kill me? What would happen if the police found me guilty? Would I be sentenced to death? Did the government still execute people for murder, or was I going to be locked up in a mouldy jail cell for the rest of my days?

"A moment of silence for our lost." The voice cut through my mind like a hot knife through butter. This was my chance, my one sliver of opportunity that I might never have again. As the cops beside me bowed their heads and closed their eyes, mine scanned the room for all possible exits. There it was, a door on the side of the wall, slightly ajar. I shuffled unnoticed passed the bowed heads and closed eyes. Just as I was sliding through the door, I heard the words I had feared would come so fast. "Thank you." The guards heads lifted and their eyes fluttered open.