Trouble in Hell (Hell Night 1)

I round the front side of my house, but come to a stop when I see dark figures, a bunch of them, stalk up the steps onto my porch. I back up and dart behind our neighbor’s, Mr. and Mrs. Sanders, house.

I’m just rounding the corner when I hear a loud bang and shouts come from my house. I pant as I start running, looking behind me to make sure no one’s spotted me and is following.

The night opens up to more screams and yells. Suddenly, I’m falling, and my hands go in front of me to catch my fall before my face smashes the ground. The grass is wet with dew and my nails dig into the blades as I push myself up. I turn and slowly walk to what I tripped over. It’s a body. Bending down, I notice it’s Mr. Sanders. Something dark is on the front o

f his shirt just below the collar. I can’t see the color, but from the way his eyes are open and sightlessly staring up at the sky, I’ve no doubt it’s blood. He’s dead.

A thrill rushes through me. I’m glad he’s dead. I just wish I was the one brave enough to have killed him.

My feet squish in the cool wet grass as I leave Mr. Sanders on the ground. I stop behind a shed when I see a short figure up ahead hunched over by a tree. The figure turns their head, and I recognize the face from the moonlight. Bending low, I jog over to my brother, Judge.

“Where’re the others?” I whisper once I’m at his side.

Without turning his head, he answers in a low voice. “I’m not sure, but I’ve got a guess.” Reaching back, he grabs my shirt. “Come on.”

He pulls me behind him, but there’s no need. I’d follow him anyway.

We’re forced to stop again when someone comes barreling out of the shadows in front of us and runs toward a car. They get the door yanked open before a deep voice rings out.

“Halt! This is the FBI! Put your hands behind your head and get on your knees!”

The light from inside the car reveals Noah Vincent’s face. He’s one of the younger adults, and a friend of my brother’s. I remember when he used to fight Hell Night. A couple years ago, that changed. Now he willingly joins in. Whatever happens to him, I hope it hurts.

I don’t get a chance to see if he does as the FBI orders, because Judge and I are sprinting again. Instead of heading toward The Hill like we should be, we’re running the opposite way. Judge doesn’t have to tell me where we’re going. There’s only one reason we would be going this way. To get Emo and Trouble.

Emo has been acting more volatile than usual lately, and I know it’s because he’s still tore up over the death of Rella, Trouble’s sister. He told us last night he thought he heard her scream. That’s not possible. We saw her ghostly-white body. We saw the blood soaking in the wood of the gazebo beneath her. There’s no way anyone could live with the amount of blood she lost.

We’re only a couple of houses away from Trouble’s when a familiar scream has me halting in my tracks. It’s my mother’s. A moment later, I hear my father bellow. I don’t stop because I’m concerned what’s happening to them. I stop because I want to take a minute to relish in their pain. I want to soak up the sound of their fear and helplessness, because they’ve been the cause of mine for as long as I can remember. Nothing that they’re going through could even come close to what I’ve endured.

“JW,” Judge hisses a few feet away from me. “We gotta go.”

We run in the opposite direction of where my parents are, but their sounds of torment follow me. It’s a sound I hope I will always carry with me. Even after my brothers and I leave this place of Hell behind.