Chapter One

By Jewlie B.

Alana’s family waited and waited, but the officers still didn’t return. The other policeman left, to see about the men who had not come back.

"We’ll be back," one officer said, trying his best to impersonate Arnold, "When we figure out what’s going on around here."

Alana knew the officers wouldn’t return either. She left the others standing on the porch, waiting for someone to come to their rescue. Alana knew that wouldn’t happen either.

She walked to where her mother’s corpse had been a few hours before. There was nothing. No blood, no body, and no bloody handprint on the door opposite the bathtub. The only thing that she noticed was that blood stained the carpet. Drops lead to apartment eighteen.

She didn’t know what to do.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the bat. She must have thrown it where it was lying by the door. She hesitated, but picked the bat up. Without thinking, she hit the door as hard as she could. The door busted into pieces.

"What the !" an angry voice said.

"Where did you take her?" Alana screamed, as her rage climbed.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"You know exactly what I’m talking about," her voice cracked. "Where’s my mother?"

Realizing that he was hiding from a child, he opened the door and grabbed Alana. She had no time to get free from his grip, but she sure didn’t go down without a fight.

When the struggle was over, the man had a fat lip and a bloody nose. She thought she might have broken his hand too. She got in two good swings before he finally got the bat from her hands.