Chapter 1: February 1st, 1981

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It was February 1st. 1981. My birthday.

I had been sleeping in. It was a school day, but it being my 15th birthday. Well, my twin sisters too, but that is besides the point. My parents let me bunk school that day. Preparing for a whole day of fun.

"Alex! Wake up! We're going to Disney Land!" suddenly, my door was all but kicked open. Waking me up in a jolt. Rubbing my eyes, I looked towards the door, groaning. "Ugh... Stacey, for fucks sake." I groaned. Throwing my pillow at her.

Stacey Mercer. My twin sister threw it right back with such force it knocked me out of my bed. 'Why is she so inhumanly strong...' I thought at the time. Rising to my feet with the pillow in hand.

I rushed forward with it, wacking her across the face with it. She scurried to get her own pillow, and for a few minutes we exchanged hits, eventually leaving me on the floor in pain.

"I'm convinced dad had an affair, and you're the daughter of a gorilla..." I groaned, rising to my feet. "You're just weak. You spend all your time reading magazines and newspapers. You're supposed to do that when you're old like dad." Stacey said as we left my room.

"Who's old?" a voice came from next to us, and we turned to see out father standing in the hallway. Jonathan Mercer The 2nd. Our father. 

"Uh... Mom of course. You're as spring as the day you were born!" Stacey said getting a raised eyebrow, and a glare. Before our father burst into laughter, placing his arms over her shoulders. "That's right kiddo." he laughed one last time.

I sighed, closing my bedroom door, and from the corner of my vision I spotted my mother, staring daggers at my father from the corner. And taking that as a que, I ran from that hallway as fast as I could. Locking myself in the bathroom, right as screams of terror filled the hallway.

My father, and Stacey, most probably taking a beating from my mothers legendary slipper. 'Phew, if I had said anything that would of been me.' I thought, wiping the sweat from my brow.

I quickly got myself ready. Taking a slow, near burning shower. Soon after, i stood in front of the bathroom mirror. Taking myself in.

Messy, black hair. Dark bags underneath my eyes from nights, very pale skin from a severe lack of sunlight and uniquely gold colored eyes. A trait no one else in my family had ever held.

I had a tall and lanky frame, and if I had taken better care of my body and exercised I could of probably taken up basketball. 'I'm taller than all the basketball kids... should probably look into getting into that.' I thought, putting on my clothes, and finding my way downstairs.

I reached the kitchen just as the smell of breakfast hit me, a mix of pancakes, bacon, and eggs wafting through the air. My mother, Mary Mercer, was a whirlwind of activity, flipping pancakes with one hand while stirring a pot of scrambled eggs with the other. 

"Morning, birthday boy!" she called out without turning, her voice full of warmth despite the earlier chaos. "Come get your breakfast. We have a big day ahead!"

I slid into a chair at the kitchen table, Stacey already seated and eagerly digging into her food. She glanced up at me with a smirk. "I saved you the best pieces of bacon, Alex. Figured you'd need the energy after getting your butt kicked."

I rolled my eyes and grabbed a piece of bacon from the stack, crunching into it as I poured syrup over my pancakes. "You wish. I let you win."

"Sure you did," she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Our father walked in, nursing a slight limp from our mother's earlier slipper attack. He kissed my mom on the cheek, muttering something that made her laugh, before joining us at the table.

"Excited for Disneyland?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with a mix of mischief and genuine excitement.

"Absolutely," I replied between bites. "It's going to be amazing."

We ate quickly, the excitement palpable. Even the small talk seemed more vibrant, filled with the anticipation of the day ahead. After breakfast, we gathered our things and headed to the car. 

As we stepped outside, the early morning sun cast a golden hue over everything, making the dewy grass sparkle. The car was already packed with snacks and supplies for the day. I climbed into the back seat, Stacey sliding in beside me.

The drive to Disneyland was a mixture of laughter, music, and teasing. Our father's eclectic taste in music meant we bounced from rock to classical to pop, each song sparking a new conversation or argument.

"Did you know Disneyland has added new rides?" my father said, trying to distract us from yet another debate about the best superhero. "There's one called Space Mountain. I heard it's incredible."

"I can't wait to try it," Stacey said, her earlier sulkiness forgotten. "I bet I can convince you to scream on it, Alex."

"Yeah, right," I retorted, but secretly, I was just as excited. 

Halfway there, we hit traffic, the bane of any road trip. My mom turned in her seat, her ever-present smile reassuring. "Don't worry, we'll get there soon. Just a little delay."

Stacey pulled out a deck of cards from her bag. "Wanna play?"

We passed the time with various card games, the minutes slipping by as the traffic slowly eased. Finally, we reached the gates of Disneyland, the towering entrance promising adventure and joy.

We parked and hurriedly gathered our things, practically running towards the entrance. My heart was racing. As much as I hate to admit it, I was the biggest coward back then. Just the thought of going on anything faster than 5 miles and hour that isn't a car frightened me to death.

"Alright, everyone ready?" my dad asked, holding up the tickets.

"Ready!" everyone shouted. Including me, not wanting to sour the mood.

We made our way through Main Street, the sights and sounds of Disneyland overwhelming in the best possible way. Stacey grabbed my hand, pulling me towards the nearest ride, her excitement poisoning me at the touch.

"Let's start with the teacups!" she exclaimed. Sighing I followed after her, and we began our fun. Well her fun. My terror.

The day went by fast, mostly filled with me screaming and Stacey laughing at me. But it was overall enjoyable. And in the dead of night, Stacey was knocked out cold, sleeping against me while we drove home.

I was staring out the window of our Buick Riviera, dozing off to sleep myself. 'Why did I stay up so late...' I wondered, having slept for barely 4 hours just the night before that. 

Arriving home, my father tapped me lightly, waking me from my slumber, before tapping my sister. Who was sleeping so deep you would swear she was in a coma. 

Sighing, I threw her onto my back and carried her into the house. Setting her in her bed and I turned to leave. "Goodnight Alex. Love you." Stacey said, smiling at me. 'She was awake that whole time... this bitch.' I mentally groaned. 

"Goodnight Stace. Love you too." I responded, turning her light off and leaving her room. I trudged back to my own room, exhaustion seeping into my bones. My bed looked more inviting than ever.

I collapsed onto it, not even bothering to change out of my clothes. The day had been long but memorable, and I replayed the highlights in my mind as I lay there, staring at the ceiling.

The darkness outside was a stark contrast to the bright, lively day we'd just had. The house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the floorboards as my parents moved around downstairs. I closed my eyes, hoping to drift off quickly, but sleep didn't come easily. 

I turned over, trying to find a comfortable position, but a sense of unease crept over me. It was a feeling I couldn't quite place, like an itch at the back of my mind. I sat up, looking around my room, the familiar shadows offering no comfort.

A sudden noise from downstairs broke the silence. It was a muffled thud, followed by a series of lighter, shuffling sounds. I frowned, wondering if my parents were still moving things around, but the noises were different—strange, almost deliberate.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I slipped out of bed, padding quietly to my door. I opened it just a crack, peering into the hallway. Everything seemed normal, the light from the downstairs hallway casting a soft glow on the walls.

Then I heard it again, louder this time—a heavy, deliberate footstep, followed by a hushed, strained whisper. My heart began to pound, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. Something was wrong.

I stepped into the hallway, moving as quietly as I could towards the stairs. The noises grew clearer as I descended, and I could make out voices now—my parents', mixed with another, unfamiliar voice. There was an edge of panic in my mother's tone, a stark contrast to the calm, collected voice of my father.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I crouched low, peering around the corner into the living room. My parents were standing near the front door, facing a tall, shadowy figure. The stranger was speaking in a low, menacing tone, and I could see the glint of something metallic in his hand—a knife.

My blood ran cold. The reality of the situation hit me like a punch to the gut. This wasn't just a random break-in; this was something far more sinister.

"Please, just take what you want and leave," my father said, his voice steady but with an underlying tremor.

The stranger laughed, a chilling sound that sent shivers down my spine. "It's not that simple," he said. "I'm not here for your money."

I glanced around, looking for anything I could use as a weapon. My eyes landed on an old baseball bat leaning against the wall near the stairs. I grabbed it, the wooden handle rough against my sweaty palms.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the living room, bat raised. "Get away from them!" I shouted, my voice cracking with fear but carrying an edge of defiance.

The stranger turned to look at me, his face partially obscured by the shadows. "Well, well, if it isn't the birthday boy," he sneered. "You picked a bad night to play hero."

My father took the opportunity to lunge at the man, trying to wrestle the knife from his hand. The two struggled, the room filled with the sounds of grunts and scuffling feet. My mother screamed, and I ran forward, swinging the bat with all my might.

The bat connected with the stranger's arm, and he cried out in pain, dropping the knife. My father seized the opportunity, pushing the man back and pinning him against the wall. "Run, Alex! Get your sister and run!" he shouted.

But I couldn't move. My feet felt like they were glued to the floor, my mind racing. I couldn't leave them. Not like this.

The stranger twisted free, his eyes wild with rage. He lunged at my father, knocking him to the ground. I swung the bat again, but he caught it this time, ripping it from my hands and tossing it aside.

He turned to me, his face twisted in a snarl. "You're going to pay for that," he hissed, advancing on me.

I stumbled back, my mind screaming at me to do something, anything. I reached for the nearest object—a lamp—and swung it at his head. The impact dazed him, and he staggered back, giving me a moment to act.

"Mom, run!" I shouted, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the stairs. My father struggled to his feet, blood streaming from a cut on his forehead.

We bolted up the stairs, my heart pounding in my ears. "Stacey, wake up!" I yelled, bursting into her room. She sat up, rubbing her eyes in confusion.

"What's going on?" she asked, her voice groggy.

"No time to explain. We have to go, now!" I said, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of bed.

The sounds of the struggle downstairs grew louder, and I could hear my father shouting in pain. We ran down the hallway, my mother leading the way to her bedroom where she kept a phone. She fumbled with it, trying to dial 911 with shaking hands.

"Please, hurry," she whispered into the phone, tears streaming down her face. "Someone's in our house. My husband is hurt."

I stood by the door, my whole body trembling. I could hear the stranger coming up the stairs, his footsteps heavy and determined. "Mom, we have to hide," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

She nodded, dropping the phone and pulling us into the closet. We huddled together, holding our breaths as the footsteps grew closer. The door creaked open, and I could see his shadow moving across the room.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he taunted, his voice a sing-song mockery. "You can't hide from me forever."

I tightened my grip on Stacey's hand, praying he wouldn't find us. The closet door rattled, and I held my breath, waiting for the inevitable.

But then, there was a sudden crash from downstairs, and the man paused. "I'll be back for you," he promised, turning and running back down the stairs.

We stayed hidden, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure it would give us away. My mother's grip on us tightened, her knuckles white with fear. We could hear the chaos downstairs, the sound of breaking furniture and my father's grunts of pain. Every second felt like an eternity.

"Mom," Stacey whispered, her voice barely audible. "What are we going to do?"

My mother didn't answer right away. She was trembling, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Finally, she looked at us, her eyes filled with a determination that gave me a glimmer of hope.

"We need to get out of here," she said, her voice steady despite the fear. "We have to find a way to escape."

I nodded, trying to muster the courage to move. "I'll distract him," I said, my voice shaking. "You and Stacey run for the back door. I'll meet you outside."

"No," my mother said firmly. "We stay together. We don't split up."

The sounds from downstairs grew louder, and I could hear my father's voice, weak and desperate. "Leave them alone!" he shouted. "It's me you want!". He was bleeding all over the floor. Surely soon to die.

I never truly understood what my father meant by that until long after that night.

The intruder laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. "Oh, I'll deal with them after I'm done with you," he said. "Don't worry." His voice seemed to distort a bit. His eyes rolling back into his head before snapping back in place.

"Wh-what am I doing!?" he shouted to himself, before spazzing. The cold and cruel look returning to his face, continuing his chase.

My mother squeezed my hand, her eyes locking with mine. "We need to move now," she said. "Quietly."

We inched our way out of the closet, every creak of the floorboards sounding like a gunshot in the silent room. My mother led the way, her movements slow and deliberate. I followed, keeping Stacey close behind me.

We made our way to the window, my mother easing it open as quietly as she could. The cold night air rushed in, a stark contrast to the suffocating tension inside. She helped Stacey climb out first, then turned to me.

"Go," she whispered. "I'll be right behind you."

I hesitated, looking back at her. "Mom, please hurry."

She nodded, giving me a small push. "Go, Alex. Protect your sister."

I climbed out, landing softly on the ground below. Stacey was already running towards the edge of the yard, her small figure barely visible in the darkness. I turned back to help my mother, but she was still halfway through the window when we heard the footsteps again.

The intruder was coming back upstairs.

"Mom, hurry!" I whispered urgently.

She scrambled the rest of the way out, just as the bedroom door burst open. The man stood there, his eyes wild with rage. "You can't escape!" he shouted, lunging towards the window.

Managing to grab my mothers arm, before using an inhuman amount of strength to drag her right back inside the house. Her screams rang in our ears, and the last words I heard her say stuck to me.

"I'm sorry kids..."

I cried silently, holding onto Stacey as I jumped down to the yard. The back gate loomed ahead, our only hope of getting away. Stacey reached it first, fumbling with the latch in her panic.

"Come on, Stacey, hurry!" I urged, glancing over my shoulder. The intruder was out the window, hitting the ground hard but recovering quickly. He was coming after us.

The gate finally gave way, and we slipped through, running into the woods behind our house. The trees closed in around us, offering a semblance of cover. We kept running, the fear driving us forward.

Branches clawed at our faces and clothes as we tore through the underbrush, our breath coming in ragged gasps. The forest was a dark maze, each step a desperate attempt to put distance between us and the monster chasing us. Stacey stumbled, and I grabbed her arm, pulling her back to her feet.

"We have to keep going," I urged, my voice barely more than a whisper. "Don't stop."

"I... I can't," she panted, tears streaming down her face. "Alex, I can't run anymore."

"Yes, you can," I insisted, but even as I said it, I could hear the sound of heavy footsteps behind us, closing the gap. "Just a little farther."

But it was too late. The man crashed through the trees, his eyes locking onto us with a predator's gaze. He was faster than us, stronger. I turned to face him, putting myself between him and Stacey, my fists clenched in a futile show of defiance.

"Leave her alone," I said, my voice trembling with fear and anger. "It's me you want."

He laughed, a cruel, mocking sound that sent shivers down my spine. "Oh, don't worry. I'll deal with you too." He lunged forward, his hand closing around Stacey's arm.

"Stacey, run!" I shouted, trying to pry his fingers loose. But she couldn't. She was paralyzed with fear, her eyes wide and unseeing. The man yanked her back, throwing her to the ground.

"No!" I screamed, diving at him, my fists flailing wildly. I managed to land a few blows, but they did nothing to slow him down. He swatted me aside like a rag doll, and I hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of me.

Stacey struggled, kicking and screaming, but he was too strong. He raised his knife, and time seemed to slow. I watched in horror as the blade came down, again and again, each strike accompanied by a sickening sound.

"Stacey!" I screamed, crawling towards her, my vision blurred by tears. But it was too late. She lay still, her eyes staring sightlessly into the night.

Something inside me snapped. A red haze descended over my vision, and I lost all rational thought. I grabbed a rock from the ground, my fingers curling around it tightly. With a guttural roar, I launched myself at the man.

I swung the rock with all my might, aiming for his head. It connected with a sickening crunch, and he stumbled back, stunned. But it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

I hit him again and again, each blow fueled by a fury I didn't know I possessed. His face became a bloody mess, but I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. I used my fists, my teeth, anything I could to inflict pain.

"Why?" I screamed, my voice raw and broken. "Why did you do this? Why?"

He didn't answer. He couldn't. I kept hitting him, my hands covered in blood, my screams echoing through the night. "Die! Die! Die!"

It wasn't until I felt hands pulling me back that I realized the police had arrived. They pried me off him, my fingers still curled into claws, my breath coming in ragged gasps. "Let me go!" I screamed, struggling against them. "I have to kill him!"

But they held me tight, dragging me away from the broken, bloodied body on the ground. "It's over," one of them said, his voice a distant echo. "It's over."

I collapsed, my body shaking with sobs. The red haze lifted, leaving only a hollow emptiness behind. Stacey was gone. My parents were gone. And I was left with nothing but the memory of their screams and the blood on my hands.

The police tried to talk to me, their voices gentle and soothing, but I couldn't hear them. All I could see was Stacey's lifeless body, her eyes staring up at me, accusing and empty.

It was February 1st, 1981. My fifteenth birthday. And everything I loved had been ripped away from me.

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Hope you enjoyed the first chapter of 'Throne of Spirits'. This will be a slow burn story, as every chapter covers a single day's worth of events, sometimes I will have to split days into multiple chapters, but I will rarely fit multiple days into a chapter.

I don't have a solid word count in plan, nor do I have a release schedule in mind, I will just update whenever I feel like it and will write each chapter until its day is over. They all should be over 2k words though.

Chapter Word Count: 3,668

Story Word Count: 3,668