Stay

PROLOGUE

TW: violence and blood
and mentions of suicide

PROLOGUE
October 15th | Thursday | 6:11 pm

I closed my locker, gathering my books in my arms and trudged down the hallway, the quietness of an empty school eerie. I headed down the main corridor, towards the biology classroom, where my best friend was meeting with Mr. Curtis, our biology and swim coach, about an extra credit project.

When I reached the biology lab, the lights were off, which I found odd. I reached for the door and entered, flipping on the lights, my heart stopping at the sight before me.

Mr. Cutis had one hand wrapped around Susannah's  head, pressing her into him, with a knife pressing to her neck, drawing blood. He whipped his head toward me and curled his lip in a sneer.

"Well, this is unexpected."

I couldn't take my eyes off my best friend. Her face had been carved up, duck tape covering her mouth with her hands bound behind her back.

"No, wait, don't hurt her, please," I pleaded with Mr. Curtis, and things started to piece together - even in my state of absolute shock. "It's you. You're The Hunter."

The Hunter.

As in the recent serial killer raping and murdering teenager girls in Bayside, Portland.

He chuckled sadistically as Suzannah cried softly, her mascara running down her cheeks, her chest heaving in terror. "Well done, little Ramsey, gold star for you."

I inched backwards, the only chance we had is if I could run and scream for help ... except it was evening and no one else was here.

"Let her go, please Mr. Curtis, let her go-"

He did it without hesitation, a crazed glimmer shone in his eyes when he slaughtered Suzannah, slicing her throat open, ear to ear.

Blood.

Blood, everywhere.

On my hands, soaking my clothes, splattered across my face, in my hair. I vomited, the horrific sight of the my best friend being slaughtered forever etched in my memory. 

The sight of my best friend's lifeless body, mutilated and bathed in a pool of crimson, was an image that seared itself into my mind. Each time I closed my eyes, the scene replayed in vivid detail, haunting my every waking moment. The stench of iron filled the air, mingling with the sickening metallic taste that lingered in my mouth, a constant reminder of the brutality that had unfolded before me.

The blood-soaked sight had unleashed a torrent of emotions within me, overwhelming my senses. "No, no," I mumbled, dropping to the floor, as waves of horror crashed upon the shores of my consciousness, leaving me gasping for air in a sea of despair. I could feel the bile rise in my throat again and again, my body instinctively attempting to purge the trauma I had just witnessed.

In that moment, the blood seemed to seep into every corner of my existence. It stained my hands, an indelible mark of guilt and powerlessness. It soaked into my clothes, a constant reminder of the horror I had witnessed, clinging to me like a shroud of sorrow.

Mr. Curtis licked the blood off his gloved fingers, his lips curled up in a malevolent sneer, revealing a glint of wickedness in his eyes. "Well, I didn't expect to see little Ramsey here this evening. What a pleasure."

My hands trembled as I froze mid step, watching my biology teacher and swim coach wield the hunting knife gleaming with blood. He worked with my father, one of the five families that controlled the criminal underworld in Portland. I knew him most of my life, I went to school with his daughter.

"You - you ..." I trailed off, spun around and tripped over a box of textbooks. Gloved, bloody hands reached down and pulled me towards him and I screamed until he slapped a hand over my mouth.

"Oh how I'd love to hear you scream my name," he whispered, his breath smelling of mints. He jerked me backwards. "You scream and I'll do things to you that will make you have sleep again. Understand?"

"Are you going to kill me?"

"No, your father will burn me alive and I have worked too hard to give up what I have now," he whispered, holding the knife to my throat. "I will not kill you, but you will disappear."

"Disappear? Why can't you let me go, let me go please, I won't tell anyone," I tried, but my voice trembled. We both knew it was a lie.

"You're gonna go on the run, little Ramsey," he said, "because I'm going to frame you for Susannah's death."

What? No, no he can't do that.

"No."

"I'm sorry did I give you the idea that you had a choice?" He chuckled. "How about this? You either go on the run, you disappear, or else I kill every single one of your brothers. Reid, how's he doing? He's in college, right? Wouldn't it be a shame if he overdosed in his apartment, made to look like a suicide? Just like your poor mother?"

I became still, panic settling in my chest.

I couldn't let my brothers be hurt.

I couldn't let this evil, vile man hurt them.

"Ryleigh, he's in his final year of his residency. I would hate for an out of control patient to stab him. And Caelan, he's shot up the latter to homicide detective, you know I have the connections to have him shot on duty."

I stayed silent. I knew he was connected. "My father will never believe this, neither would my brothers."

"Your father is in prison. I can have him killed with the snap of my fingers. Would you be able to forgive yourself? Would you be able to live with yourself?"

I shook my head.

"Then it's settled. You'll leave and disappear. Forever." He shoved me forward, catching my arm and spinning me around, an evil smirk on his lips.

"I have rules. One, don't get caught, by your family or the police. Two, if you speak a word of the truth, I will keep you for myself, killing you slowly. Oooh, the things I'd like to do to you." He sniffed deeply and I realized he was smelling my hair. I tried to move away but he held firm.

"I will make your life a living hell, Alayna, if you tell the truth. And I will make you scream for mercy."

His words sent chills down my spine. But I needed to stay strong. "You're a fucking creep. No one will believe I killed my best friend."

He held me tighter and chuckled. "Let me say this once. I have more connections than anyone in this city. Besides, you have a ... hmm, an unstable and impulsive past, don't you? Since you were eleven ... C'mon, no one will believe you. Not even your own family."

He smiled and threw me against the wall, my head making a sickening crack as it connected with concrete. Black dots clouded my vision and then darkness consumed me.

+++
Thank you for reading.
I wrote and rewrote.
I hope you liked it.
We'll get to know more
of the characters soon.
Charlie 🧡