Demon's run

All around me is the sound of drumming. Kids bang on their desks to the ticking of the clock's hands. The classroom is stuffy, but the heat doesn't seem to be a concern to anyone. At the front of the class, it appears that the teacher is trying to squeeze in a few more words before the bell rings. However, seeing as no one is listening, he just gives up and silently counts under his breath as well. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em!

Then the bell rings, and all Hell comes loose. People hastily yank their things off the ground and bolt to the door, many a sorry excuse to be first. The first tidal wave manages to free most from the small door frame, and the second isn't far behind. I roll my eyes, waiting until everyone is gone, leaving only the teacher and me to breathe in the humid air of Class 143.

I sigh, turning to the man behind the desk. "See you next year, Sir," I say with a wave.

He nods, and waves me out with a curt "Enjoy your summer, Mr. Sangroove."

I make my way to the hallway. It's less crowded now, most everyone had made a mad dash to get out of this place. I was honestly feeling sentimental about leaving. Don't get me wrong, I dislike school as much the next person, but I like the people here. Well, the teachers anyway. Some of them. No one seems to like me though, for some reason.

I slowly make my way to my locker, which is in the back of the school. The walk is not very long, seeing as, unlike some of the other student body; I'm in no rush to leave. When I get there, most of the hallway is already empty, the remaining staff and students trickling out. I turn to the locker, with its rusting metal and the squeaking hinges, and begin to turn the combination for the last time this year.

I grab all the paper and a few of the books I have collected; forcefully shoving them into my small backpack. Then, with no one around to scold me, I bang my door shut. I would've asked to move my locker to the front of the school, where the nicer new lockers are, but why bother? That's where the people who usually pick on me are.

I finally make it to the front doors, dreading going home. That's where my parents are. I hate my parents.

This morning, my mum told me to be home as soon as possible. More like griped at me. I snarl slightly as I push open the front doors of the school. The sunlight is blinding, making me squint. The walk from school is short, but I walk as slow as possible, so to delay my coming home.

It only takes me five minutes until I get to the rundown shack I call home. I walk up the steps of my porch, pausing when I hear the sound of rusty metal. Looking to my left, I see a dark figure on our porch swing. I freeze, wondering who it could possibly be. The figure reveals itself; standing up and walking into the sunlight of the drive. My mother.

My parents and I look nothing alike. I'm a redhead, and rather short, in comparison. Both of my parents are tall, my dad being a tad shorter than my mum. However, my mother never seemed to care for good posture; her slouch gives the illusion of being the same size as my father. The two of them have dark raven hair that falls to the length of their shoulders. I have green eyes while they have midnight blue. People ask why we look so different, my mum just says I got lucky and got her mother's genes. I never met my grandmother, so I wouldn't know.

Towering over me, my mother tilts her head as she smiles. Even though the warmth of the sunlight outside, a cold shiver goes down my spine. "Have you packed yet, Aaron dear?" She asks, her thick eyebrows drawn to meet at the center of her forehead.

"N-no Mother..." Her tight smile turns to a thin, grim line.

"Well, hurry up, we've got to leave soon.." I nod, dashing inside. No need to get mother frustrated on a day like this.

I've already packed my clothes, of course, I just need my personal things. My mother would've just told me not to bring anything unnecessary. But the other things I want to bring are necessary. To me anyway.

I grab my iPod Nano, along with its charger. My notebook, in which I write events that I wish to remember; as I would forget them otherwise. I don't know what happened, once upon a time, my memory was great. Then one day, poof! Half of my life gone. So now I record everything.

I finish shoving everything into the tiny purple backpack. I sigh, dreading the next few months I'll have to spend in isolation with my parents, and pick up the suitcase full of clothes; running down the stairs.

Father is already by the door. I stop in front of him, tilting my head in observation. He seems tenser to me, more fidgety. A crooked smile plays at his mouth, and he keeps licking his lips. I back away, uneasy with his actions.

"Where's mother?" I ask instead. He seems to snap out of something, like my voice brought him back down from whatever faraway thought he was having.

"She's still getting ready." His voice is calm, almost too calm.

"I'm here." The deathly cold voice came from right behind me. I turn to see mother towering over me, her crooked smile present once more.

"Good." Father nodded, turning his look on me. "Are you ready to go as well, Aaron?" I get this odd sensation, as if I'm a trapped animal, soon to become its predator's lunch. It's suffocating like I need to get outside.

I just nod my mouth in a tight line, masking what I actually feel. I push past Father. I heard his disapproving grunts. I bolt down the steps and stand by the car's trunk. Father and Mother seemed to take their leisure time, putting me in more of a discomfort. I was just about panicking from the heavy invisible pressure that seemed to weigh on my shoulders.

When Father finally popped the trunk, and I squeezed in my suitcase, I rushed to get in. I passed by my mother, who was watching me out of the corner of her eye with a raised brow. For a moment, I could've sworn I saw her eyes flash the colour of an oil spill on the road. But then it was gone, and she turned to get in. I just blinked, climbing into the back seat.

The car that my family owns is a mini-van for some reason or another, so I was at least one row away from them.

"Aren't you excited?" Mother exclaimed once her and Father got into the car and she turned in her seat to face me. Yeah, so excited. We were going to spend a whole month in isolation. When I was first told, I didn't believe it.

"Why a cabin surrounded by no one?" I cried.

"Because," Mother said in her deathly calm voice, "We have become more distanced as a family." She clapped her hands together, her mouth tilted up at the edges. "Spending a whole mouth with no distractions is just what we need!" Tears began to form in my eyes, so I looked down at the ground so she couldn't see them. "Oh cheer up Aaron!' Her long, bony, black-nailed fingers reached under my chin. She lifted it up so that we made eye contact.

"We'll have fun. Promise."

I had just nodded.

Now, I was watching the little town I lived in fly past. Goodbye, everyone, I'll miss you. I hugged my pack to my chest. It was a wonder I gotten it past my parents. Mother didn't even see it as I rushed past. But I'm guessing she saw it now.

"Oh, Aaron. What's that?" Mother sharply demanded from the front.

"Some things." I looked up into mother's glare, meeting it full on. She didn't scare me, not even when I was younger. Whenever I had done something that pissed her off, she would always turn her, what I would later dub her 'Medusa Glare', on me, I would meet it head-on. I always felt like I had some power over her in me, and I would always smirk when she seemed to shrink down. Like I scared her, or something.

"What did I tell you about bringing things that weren't necessary?!" I just squeezed the pack closer to my chest, not looking away.

"You said not to."

"That's right." She hissed.

"Now dear. There's no point in yelling at the boy. We're not turning around just so he can dispose of his bag." My father grumbled. I knew father was terrified of mother, and would never go against her wishes. But that little act of rebellion didn't make me feel any better. So I just glared out the window once more.

I must have dozed off because, in the next moment, two strong hands were shaking me awake. "Get up Aaron. We're here." The gruff voice of my father broke through my subconscious. I looked through the front windshield. In front of us was a one-story cabin. Surrounding us, was a dense forest. The perfect place for a murder, I thought with a smirk.

I sluggishly made my way out of the car. I still felt tired. Rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet, I nearly fell forwards. "Aaron, honey," My mother's voice sounded far away. "You can go up ahead. Father will get your bags."

I dimly nod as I host my purple pack onto my shoulders. Father can grab my suitcase, what's in here is too valuable to lose or break. And knowing Mother, I don't trust her not to chuck it into the woods when she gets the chance. For some reason just having these things put Mother on edge.

Last night, I overheard her and Father talking in hushed whispers about me 'remembering' something. And a bird was mentioned as well. A nightingale I think.

I turn towards the cabin and slowly make my way over. Abit like a zombie. I groggy push open the front door when I get there. Inside, I saw what I could think could be the living room. There was no television. Great. Off to the side was a kitchen. To the other side was the hallway. I stumble through until I find the smallest room. Jesus, I must be really tired.

I make my way over to the bed. Falling into its soft embrace, I start to close my eyes as the shadows in the room danced around me.

I awoke to a piercing scream. I bolt up in bed. Another scream rips through the air. It sounded like it came from Mother. I launch out of bed, all drowsiness is forgotten. I bolt down the hall, still in my outfit from earlier. I stop short in the living room. What I see makes my heart stop. I have to rub my eyes to make sure what I'm seeing is not just a dream.