In the car I was blindfolded. Someone took the blindfold off. I know that although I can’t exactly remember it.
We’re walking up to a house. I’m with both of the girls from my house and the boy. This is my old neighborhood. I recognize it. We’re headed up to the ranch house at the end of the street. This house makes sense. I might not know the people who own it since no one has lived in that house for more than a year or two before they leave.
I almost want to laugh. I know how to get here; why was I blindfolded? But then I remember: there is no reason to laugh.
I can’t even seem to remember what happened to my family. Wait, I do remember gunshots. The only conclusion I can come up with is that they all must be dead.
So it was these people who killed my whole family. Yet they spared me. Why? I don’t want to be a part of any of this or any of them.
They sat me down on a couch. No one has said anything to me yet. Then I see her. Now I understand. It’s because I know one of them. She’s one of my college roommates. But I thought she was normal. But I’m still pretty confused about the whole situation. Who are the rest of these people?
My old roommate lies down on the floor. Everyone surrounds her: except me. This must be some kind of ritual.
All of the sudden, I feel significant. I feel wanted and special. Why did they want me? I must be important somehow. My mind travels back to the nice looking guy. He must have wanted me there. I don’t know how I know it. But I know it is true.