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MARK'S POV

I ran relentlessly through the woods, scared that the attacker would catch up with me, my legs were worn out and my chest felt like it was going through a compressor. I turned back in a split second to look, tripping and hitting my head on a tree stump in the process. I looked around for my assailant, but all my eyes could see was the billowing smoke. A bile rose in my throat, as the fear of death ran thick in my chest‒

"Mark! Hey Mark!" A tiny, ringing voice infiltrated my head, interrupting my thoughts. With a slight groan, I opened my eyes just in time to see my little sister raise a pail of water directly above my face.

"Hold it!" I jolted upward, banging my leg on something hard in the process. I craned my neck a bit to check what had stubbed my toe, it was her shoe.

"What's up with you, Jessie?" I half yelled, my eyes fixed in a glare.

"Morning bro. Arise and Shine!" She called out cheerfully, removing the window blinds.

"You just woke me from my sound sleep. Congratulations,” I mumbled. “Now leave me alone."

"Come on, don’t be like that. You were snoring so loud, that I just had to wake you up, for the peace of the house". She grinned, clearly enjoying how she was getting on my nerves.

"Alright that's enough; leave my room,” I said, getting up from the bed. “One of these days, I am going to put a proper lock on my door." I kept mumbling, pushing her to the door.

"One of these days? We are moving today dude!" She said, pulling a half-smirk.

Oh yeah! I totally forgot we were leaving Minnesota to New Jersey!!

The smirk left her face the instant she saw the look of surprise on my face. "I'm— I'm sorry. Breakfast is in five minutes." She spoke hurriedly and ran downstairs.

Actually, I have slight amnesia. When I was twelve, I and Jessie got into a fight, and she hit my head—not intended though—with her shoe.

Strange enough, my memory got wiped! I had to go see a therapist for two years. Jessie had not been able to forgive herself ever since.

"Mark, downstairs now!" I heard Mom's tiny voice calling as I groped the door for support, the room was beginning to spin a little. I blinked a little and took a quick look around my room, every part of the room was scattered. Apparently, I’d had one of my night encounters again.

Since I turned 15, I’d been having these weird encounters where I walk in realms unknown, and I wake up to see traces of my night's activities in my room. Just Jessie knows of this, and that's why she is always the one running up to call me down for breakfast, just so Mom or Dad doesn't find out of my escapades at night. Weird? Yes. Could I help it? No.

In five minutes, I bundled up the mess to my bedroom—bad habit—and went down for breakfast.

"Mar-"

"I'm here!" I called, ending my mother's tiny scream. My mom has always had this tiny, loud voice she always has reserved for moments when she needs either my sister or I. Guess Jessie takes after her, though she uses hers all the time.

I couldn't recognize the scene I met downstairs. There were moving boxes everywhere and the living room looked empty and unoccupied, just like when we moved here some six years ago. Jessie did say we were moving, she wasn’t joking at all.

"Hey chap! What's up?" My dad called in a cheerful manner I had become accustomed to. He was one of what kids liked to call modern parents, never wanting to be disagreeable with his offspring.

"Fine I guess." I said, getting one of the few chairs the moving agents had not taken already. The guys apparently were here very early.

"Alright, this is our last meal in this house!" My mom announced in her usual dramatic manner. Dad once joked that she should have considered a career in being a circus host—hostess?—or something in that direction.

"Mmm, scrambled eggs. My favorite!" My sis cried, clapping her hands like a two year old. I and Dad exchanged glances, trust him to be the cool guy at all times. Mom served all of us, and then took us on a long breakfast prayer. Mom's parents migrated from Nigeria to the U.S in 1947, some years before they had her.

After the prayers we had our meal, in silence. Another of mom's rules she made us keep since forever. Make a noise, and you'll have her to deal with for the rest of that day. I noticed mom looking at my head strangely. I was quiet, and so was she.

"Honey are you okay?" She asked, putting her fork down. One of the downsides to Mom’s rules was that she considered herself above them.

"Sure, why?" I asked, uncertain as to why she was asking.

"Why is there a bruise on your head, and why am I just seeing it now?" She queried.

“Huh?” I gasped; I must have gotten that during the encounter last night! Jessie looked at me, not knowing what to say

"Yeah, uhm, I had it yesterday evening. I uhm… went to play soccer." I stuttered.

"Really? We ate dinner together last night and I didn't notice." Mom continued, narrowing her eyes while she kept staring at me.

"I wore a bandana yesterday!" I said quickly.