- Five Months Earlier -
Christmas Eve, an amazing day in the Dexter household. Started off with my Mother's delicious chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast, we had dinner at my grandmother's house with my Dad's side of the family, I even got to wind up toy cars with my younger cousins.
So how did I get here? Bleeding pools of crimson from a gaping hole in my chest with my sister kneeling next to me, bawling into the palms of her hands. How did my day go from pancakes with my family to lying in my and my sister's bedroom half-dead? I'm facing the painful agony of a dagger to the chest, this wasn't how Christmas Eve was supposed to go.
My sister lifts her head, revealing her puffy cheeks and bloodshot eyes to glare with fury at my bloodied dagger clutching assailants. She looks prepared to beat the living crap out of them, the two stare at us with cold eyes, too cold to be professional, Instead inhuman, waiting. Waiting for me to die? It shouldn't be taking this long.
Why aren't I dead? My heart isn't beating, I am no longer breathing, and I can't even will myself to keep my eyes shut, I always assumed a stab to the heart would be a quick and painless death. I unfortunately stand corrected.
My chest suddenly stops hurting, an unnerving smile creeps its way across my face but I feel more alive than ever.
What is going on?
The mending of each and every blood vessel, tissue, and muscle should feel so unnatural but it feels like the most correct thing that has ever happened to me. The foreign blue rims of my pupils begin to glow like a magical flashlight, Lola gapes at me and I worry she may faint, while my assailant's smirk, they knew this would happen.
I take in a sharp breath, My sister gazes at the tear in my t-shirt without even a scar beneath to show the damage. She quickly snaps out of it and pulls me into a hug, tears dampening my hair, are they her's or mine? It doesn't matter, I'm alive.
I plan to continue relishing in my survival when my eyes travel back to my assailants nearby, still watching us, something in the way their stormy gaze follows us, assures me that this isn't the end of their plans.
Little did I know just how much would change.