Chapter 5 - The Horror

        Robbin looked at the gun beside her. Determined not to let these men get away with killing her family, she aimed at the head of the man who shot her uncle. Fueled by anger and adrenaline, she waited as they walked towards the body of the man with the large bag, then pulled the trigger, hitting the side of his head. Her uncle's gun lessons paid off. The recoil knocked her a little off balance, but she took aim again. Startled by the sudden gunshot and shocked to see the body of his friend, the man who shot her aunt looked around frantically, trying to figure out where the shot came from. She shot again but missed her target, hitting him instead at the back of his leg. Following the sound, he lifted his head towards the treehouse. Robbin knew she was in trouble, so she shot again as he lifted his gun and slowly advanced towards her, but she missed him slightly. He reached the treehouse and aimed. Scared and panicking, Robbin fumbled with the gun in her hands. She pulled the trigger multiple times, shooting with her eyes closed, then she heard a loud thump as his body dropped to the ground. Opening her eyes, she crawled to the entrance and continued shooting him again, until the gun clicked, just to be sure he was dead. Shaking furiously, she let the gun slip from her hands, sat back and began crying uncontrollably. 

    After what seemed like a few minutes, she pulled herself together and began heading down the treehouse. She ran into the house, stopping in front of her uncle and aunt's bodies. Her knees wobbled and her legs could no longer hold her weight. She slumped to the ground and knelt in the pooling blood of her uncle and aunt. She ran her fingers across their bodies as fresh tears slowly flowed down her cheeks. It looked so peaceful as they lay in each other's arms, but for the bullets in their heads, the blood flowing down their bodies, and her uncle's eyes, which were wide in shock. She reached out and touched her uncle's face, covering his eyelids. She let her hand linger on his face as she sobbed loudly. He looked so pale with a 9mm bullet hole in his head. She moved her fingers to her aunt, who was laying face down on her uncle's chest, fragments of her skull mixed with her blood-soaked hair. Her soft skin felt cold to her touch. She slowly lifted her aunt, careful not to separate them. She took one last look at her face. It looked so pale and bloodstained. She ran her fingers across her face a few times, then layed her back against her uncle's chest. She held both their hands in hers and screamed until she was out of breath. She wished there was a way she could bring them back. She cried for hours till there were no more tears left to shed, then she lifted herself off the floor and called the police. 

   After the call, she looked around, she was surrounded by dead bodies. A myriad of thoughts began to flood her mind. What if I'm blamed for all of these? What if they pin this on me? After all, I am the only one alive, and there are seven people dead; what if these men are part of a gang, and they come after me with vengeance? "... She looked down at her hands and clothes. They were all stained with blood. She began to panic. She was the only person who survived, and she knew how heartless the police were. They could pin this all on her to avoid any rigorous investigation and too much attention from the press. They would quickly spin the narrative and pin all the deaths on her. She couldn't let that happen. She began to think of ways to save herself. She took her shoes off and ran up the stairs. She grabbed a few clothes and a pair of sneakers and ran out. As she ran past the bodies of her family, she stopped dead in her tracks. She didn't want to leave them there just like that. She ran back up the stairs, put her clothes down on her bed, got a pen and paper, and wrote in bold capital letters, "OUR LAST WISHES; BURRY US SIDE BY SIDE AT THE GARDEN BEHIND OUR HOME... Emily and Jason Forestt." She paused and wiped the stray tears that had fallen while she wrote, then walked to their bedroom, picked up a soft blanket, and then headed back down the stairs. She put the letter on her uncle's chest, then placed the blanket across their bodies. She picked up her clothes and sneakers and ran out of the house. 

Remembering something her uncle once told her as she ran towards the creek that was close to her house: "Creeks lead to rivers, rivers lead to towns." She kept running until she reached the creek. She slumped to the ground, kneeling on the smooth pebbles along the creek, and cried. She missed her family so much. She had no idea what would become of her, what life had in-store for her. She looked down at the blood that was now drying on her clothes and her body. She immediately realized that if anyone saw her like this, they might assume that she had killed someone. Well, she had killed some people, but they were bad guys. She looked around; there was no one in sight. She then took off her clothes, got into the water, and washed the blood stains off her body. Then she threw the bloody clothes into the water and changed into the fresh pair of clothes that she had been carrying. She began to walk along the bank of the creek, away from her home, away from her family and all she knew and loved.