I was standing beside my brother Greg and my sister Jemma, who was crying. We were in our brother's strong arms, and I could hear Jemma's sobs getting louder and louder. I didn't cry. I was too shocked for that.

Behind us were our parents. Mom was doing exactly what Jemma was doing, while Dad was trying to comfort her. We stood a few feet away from our house, the firemen backing us up and trying to put out the hell-raised fire that continued to roar and hiss uncontrollably. Our neighbours were standing outside their house, watching and talking about the it all like we weren't even there.

It was a snowy night, and we had no home.

I lay my head even deeper on the crook of my brother's arm that enveloped me tighter, doing the same thing to Jemma. I looked at her slowly, her eyes were bloodshot and her lips were so pale. Her red hair was disarrayed, as my own was. Her green eyes were sad and full of tears, and she shook her head, burying her head on Greg's chest further. Our brother tried to shush her but it was no use.

I looked up at him, seeing he was staring at the fire with his face grim.

He was angry.

Why would he not? Our only home was burning down into ashes and we had nowhere to live. Nowhere to go. Nothing.

I closed my eyes, seeing something different. I didn't see our house burning. I saw something horrible. Grotesque.

I was walking down the snowy lane, coming home from the little shop five blocks away from our home. Mom made me do an errand, getting a delivery from Mr. Lewis's shop. Of course I obeyed her, and after I took the box Mr. Lewis had for her and my dad, I quickly went straight back to our new house. I didn't have our old car, because Greg said he'd need it since he was going to his best friend Jason's house a town away. And so I travelled by foot. Jemma wanted to come, but she was sick with the flu and Mom was worried that sickness might get worse, especially since the place we were living in never stopped snowing.

I saw that the car was still outside, and so I was so sure that Greg was still inside, talking to Dad about the things they usually talked about. I was curious about the package that was held in my hands, but Mr. Lewis had said it was only Dad's latest car-related magazines and Mom's Pottery Barn. So I paid no heed anymore as I remembered what the old proprietor had told me earlier on. I continued walking up the drive, onto our porch steps. I opened the door, then the screen, and I was finally inside the warm room.

That was what I remembered when I left for an errand that I had to do. I left the packages on top of a mantel, ran straight up to my room without noticing a thing, for I was longing for my bed and changing into something comfortable. Now, I was inside my own little place, and got rid of my winter clothes. Shorts, t-shirt, and socks to warm my feet. I relaxed a bit, but then I slapped my forehead for forgetting to tell my parents about the magazines I got for them. I went down the stairs.

"Mom? Dad? I have your packages from Mr. Lewis already!" I called out to the empty living room. "I just forgot to tell you guys. Sorry!"

There was no reply from anyone. They must have been busy or left, I didn't know. Mom was probably taking care of Jemma; since the time I left the house, she was too afraid to leave my little sister. I saw Greg's jacket on the coat rack, and so maybe he was somewhere in the house or wore a different one was still over at Jason's. Dad was probably inside his room doing work.

I shrugged and went inside the kitchen. It was strange, since I saw Mom's apron on the floor -- which she would never do, since she was a total clean freak -- and a plate shattered into pieces along with it. The chairs at the dining table were tumbled down, the table hinds were broken, and the main top of the table was split in half...like someone had been struck down onto it with a loud crash. Worse, there was blood.

I immediately went upstairs and went to the first door, leading to Jemma's room. I opened it, but I saw nothing. Jemma was sound asleep in her bed, her beautiful face serene. Beside her was Mom, who was also sleeping with her, her arm across Jemma's slim waist. I straightened, and my eyes knitted together. What's going on? I thought. I slowly closed the door, and shook my head. That was weird. I was sure that Mom or anyone at home would know about the kitchen downstairs...

"Dad? Greg? Hello?" I called, my voice echoing through the hall. My feet were slowly padding on the floor, making the floorboards creak uncontrollably. I opened my parents' room.

And what I saw...

...was my father lying on the floor facedown, and my brother was slung on the chair, his head lolled back, his green eyes wide and blank. The whole room was a mess, and I looked at my brother and my father again.

And screamed.

I ran from the room, back to where my mom and sister were. The door opened with a bang, and I slowly went forward to her bed with my mother beside her.

I looked at both of them. They looked so peaceful. They looked sound asleep.

But they were dead.

I knew they were dead as I looked more closely.

I backed away from the room, eyes wide, mouth shaking as I tried to control my breaths. I ran as fast as I could toward the telephones and dialled 911, going hysterical over the line while the operator tried to calm me down. But I couldn't. My family was murdered. The man on the line asked me some questions while waiting for an officer to come by, but when my eyes looked out the window, I saw a man in black with a mask covering his face. He was slowly coming inside, and I screamed, startling the operator.

"Venise?" he asked. "Venise, stick with me here. You'll be fine. An officer is only two miles down north. Stay ca --"

"He's here! The killer is here, I can't stay I can't --"

"Venise, no!"

I dropped the phone and ran for my life, just as the murderer banged the door open and tried to catch up with me. I screamed as I left.

I went outside of the house in a hurry, not minding the people staring at me with surprise. I didn't take the car, for I was too blind to think. My family was gone.

Tears were rolling down my cheeks and as I ran, I kept losing my breath. I stopped as the killer suddenly stood in front of me. I was confused. He was behind me a moment ago, hot on my heels, and then...

He vanished.

I couldn't think further. I needed to run, so I did. A few minutes there, I saw a man on the side, looking at me. He was wearing a black coat, and smiling at me. I had seen him before. Even before the fire that had caused my old home to burn down into ashes. I did not know who he was, or why he kept following me. But I knew he had no good intentions. He was...a stalker and...

That was it! I leaped off my bed, feeling nervous sweat sliding down my neck.

That man was the one who killed my family. And I was sure that it was not Roman.

Roman had nothing to do with it!

I had to do something. I just had to. The past gave me more answers and connected the pieces to the puzzle. I knew I had to do something, but what? How? I didn't know where that man was, let alone who he was. But I was certain he knew where I was.

Everything was such a horror and a shock for me. The aching part of all was the throbbing on my head, going: "Why did he have to kill my family? Why is he always following me? Why does he want to kill me?"

I shuddered inside the darkened room.