The Chase

Setting

As I read that letter, painful memories of that day flashed before my eyes. I still remember that place, the place where I was born and brought up. The place where my family got killed.
Fear started taking over me. I stood frozen for some time. After a while,
I slowly returned to my room and plopped down on my bed. I closed my eyes and started to remember everything.

I was born in a rich family. My dad was fond of the old, European style of buildings. So he decided to build a house, or a mansion in a Gothic style. The house was situated in the outskirts of the city.
It looked like the same house you would see in an horror movie. But, for me, it was more beautiful and less scary. It probably looked beautiful because of the large garden stretched out wide in front of the house. It minimised the scary vibes the house was giving off.
The building was tall and had three storeys. It had a tower too, which made it look more like a church. The walls were intricately and beautifully designed with figures of Roman gods and goddesses carved at the entrance.
The windows had pointed arches and were made of stained glass which created an effect when light shines upon it. The ceiling was made of a rib vault, more specifically stellar vault, in which the ribs, or the columns arising from the ceiling which support the pillars-made a star design. The furniture was also old-fashioned, which remind us of 16th century Europe.
The house, to put simply, was majestic.
I still remember playing in the garden and catching butterflies, as my mother used to sit by the table placed in the middle of the garden, watching me amusingly as she sips her favourite Darjeeling tea to relieve her stress.
As for my father, I didn't use to see him often. He was always busy with work. The last time I saw his face was on that day morning. He seemed to be very stressed and was sweating a lot while talking with my mother. I still remember his face, pale, with fear. But I didn't knew why. Until that night, when it happened.

It was a full moon night. The wind was blowing too hard as if a storm was approaching. It was midnight. I woke up all of a sudden breathing heavily. Sweat formed over my forehead. I had a nightmare. Then, I heard something. It was a loud bang. It came from downstairs. I got up to go and see what it was. I started walking out of my room. I passed through the large hallways. It was way too silent. The windows were flapping due to the heavy winds blowing in my room. The moonlight shone upon the windows in the hallways forming shadows on the walls. I padded slowly through the streaks of light that were illuminating the halls. Suddenly, I saw something moving in the shadows. I stopped and turned around. A cat was passing through the window. Relieved, I started walking again through the deadly quiet hallway. Something seemed off. I got frightened. Slowly, I descended the long flight of stairs. As I got off the last stair, I heard a scream. It was my mother. I quickly rushed to her room. As I got to the door, something red started to flow out of the room. It was blood. I was terrified. I slowly opened the door and was horrified by the scene in front of me.
There was blood. Everywhere. The room was a mess. My mother was strapped against the wall. Her head was bleeding. She was clutching her stomach, wailing in pain. There was a deep wound at the part her hands were placed.
She was breathing hard. Next to her was a knife covered in blood. The sight was too grotesque. I was stupified. Just like a statue. I didn't know what to do. My mother beckoned me with her hand. It was completely red. Slowly, I waddled my way through the puddle of blood. There was too much blood that it couldn't have come out from a single person. Then, I felt something soft under my feet. It was a hand. Of my father's. He wasn't moving. I couldn't see his face. It was turned to the other side. His back was completely drenched in blood. Tears started forming in my eyes. As I was staring at the motionless body, I heard a soft whisper from my mother. She beckoned me, sobbing. I slowly walked towards her and sat down beside her. She caressed my head and whispered, " you must live on, Sara. Run. Run till you escape from him." I held her hand and started crying. I didn't want to leave her. Suddenly, there was a loud thud. My mother's face filled with terror. She couldn't say anything but signalled me to run. And then, she stopped breathing. I clutched her hand and started to wail. Then I heard footsteps. I quickly got up and did as she told. I ran out of the house. He saw and followed me. Luckily,I escaped from him.

I opened my eyes. I stared blankly at the ceiling. My heart was racing. I felt like vomiting. My trauma started to take a toll on me. He was back.
Should I  run away....again?