Page 1 of Blood Sport

1

Evie

Blood spills down the staircase in waves, each drop hitting the next wooden step with a deafening thud. The sound rings out in my ears as I watch the dark red liquid seep into the wood, staining it. The sharp smell of metallic hits my nostrils, almost making me gag.

My heart is in my throat as I stare at the scene, too afraid to lift my eyes to what I know is likely lying at the top of the staircase. This is my house. The home I share with my parents. In what world would this be anyone else’s blood but theirs? Still, I’m hopeful that my initial instincts are wrong, and that the waterfall of blood belongs to someone else. Anyone else.

Inhaling sharply, needing as much air in my lungs as possible, I slowly lift my eyes up the staircase, past the pouring blood, until I spot a hand hanging just off the top step. The first thing I notice is the large diamond on the dainty finger. It’s enough for my stomach to twist in pain.

No, it can’t be. I refuse to believe it is her hand.

But it doesn’t take long for my brain to catch up with the reality of what I’m seeing. Not only does the hand belong to my mother, but I see my father’s arm resting over her stomach as she lay on her back, her soulless eyes staring straight ahead at the ceiling. Drops of blood land on her pale face, falling from the splatter on the roof, but of course, she doesn’t flinch.

My heart lurches into my throat as I stare at the horror scene before me. My school bag drops to the floor beside me as my knees hit the hardwood floor, blood soaking through my leggings. From the floor, I can see how blood-soaked my parent’s clothes are and even the deep gashes slashed across their chests. My brain is trying to comprehend the scene, and I can’t help but wonder if I’m dreaming or if this is my reality.

What the hell happened while I was at school?

Who would do such a thing to my parents and leave them like this for me to find? The thought only makes my stomach twist with nausea, and I have to fight back the bile threatening to make its way up my throat.

Clutching at my stomach, I lift my eyes to where my parents lay motionless. The whispers of the wind, the pelting of the rain on the roof, and my harsh breathing as I struggle to fill my lungs are the only sounds in the house right now. I want to scream and cry and demand to know what happened to them, but I don’t do either of those things. Instead, I burst into tears, cover my face as wetness streaks down my cheeks, and fall to the floor, not caring that I’m covered in blood. Their blood.

I feel helpless at this moment, not knowing what to do. I know I should call the police, but my body is frozen in fear and my mind is blank. All I can do is cry and cry. Cry for my parents and what has happened to them. Cry for me because I don’t know what my future is going to look like moving forward, and cry because I’m so fucking lost and confused.

Evie.

My head snaps up at the sound of my name. Did I just hear my mom’s voice? Surely not.

Evie.

The voice is louder this time as if it’s coming from right beside me. I turn in the direction it came from, and all I see is the empty kitchen where plates of food are laid out on the dining table as if my parents were just getting ready to sit down for lunch before they were attacked.

Evie.

I frown, looking around the room. Why does the voice sound like it’s coming from inside of my head?

Evie!

My vision blurs at the edges, changing the scenery from the nightmare of that night to the brightly lit room I share with my best friend. My heart is hammering in my chest as I blink rapidly, making sure that this is my reality and not the terrible memory I had to relive in my nightmare.

“Are you okay, Evie? You were groaning in your sleep.”

I focus on Rylee who is sitting on her bed against the opposite wall. Her long blonde hair is styled in a light wave over her right shoulder, and her pale gray eyes bore into mine. I can see concern and worry hidden in the depths of her irises, but that’s nothing new. Rylee has witnessed multiple nightmares of mine that always end with me waking up to her calling my name. It’s something I appreciate greatly.

A sigh escapes my lips as I rub at my tired eyes, shaking my head softly. “I’m okay. Thank you for waking me.”

A small smile touches her lips as she readjusts the white and pink summer dress pooling around her thighs. “Was it another dream of the night your parents died?”

I swallow hard and nod, unable to meet her eyes. “Yeah. They have become a lot more… intense these past few weeks. The images have become more vivid. I remember everything so clearly even though the incident happened twelve years ago.”

“Maybe your body is trying to tell you something,” Rylee says with a shrug, fiddling with the ring on her middle finger.

I raise a brow at her. “And what is it trying to tell me? That I need to figure out who killed them. Rylee, I’ve been trying to do that for years now and nothing has changed in terms of information. Not even Miles has been able to find anything useful. That I know of.”

Rylee sighs, chewing on her bottom lip. “I know. I’m sorry, Evie.”

I run a frustrated hand over my face. I’m not mad at Rylee, I’m just exhausted. These dreams—rather, nightmares—are so exhausting that it’s hard to focus on much else, let alone control my attitude and feelings. Rylee means well, I know she does, which is why I hate being short with her when she doesn’t deserve it. Rylee has been there for me and Miles since the day I found them murdered. I have always thought of her as a sister, ever since I was five years old, and I know my parents felt the same. Growing up, she was always over at our house for dinner, a sleepover, or even just to play in our pool. She is such a large part of my life and I know I wouldn’t be where I am without the unconditional support and love she shows me, even when I feel as though I don’t deserve it.

She has been there for me through every shit thing that has happened in my life, so I’m sure she understands when my emotions are all over the place. She’s amazing like that.

---