They had been dead for hours now. I couldn't say exactly how long it had been; I was unconscious for most of it. I did not have time to say goodbye; I did not have time to grieve. In fact, I was mad at them at the time of their death. I believe I had even wished such fate onto my mother under my breath. Now, I was silently mourning over them, stray tears running down my cheeks as I rested my sore head against a truck window.

I raked my brain for memories, trying to find the details of what happened the night before. The only sounds I remember were my screams; the only image was my brother's eyes, lifeless, soulless, dead. I remembered running through the woods, the moon refusing to show through the trees. I was blind, stumbling over rocks and roots, but I never fell. They were fast, though. They caught up quick. I was no match for them; three grown men against a teenage girl.

My head throbbed, and my eyes burned from tears that threatened to fall as I thought of what the men wanted from me. Different scenarios played through my mind, none of them good. The man I met the day before on a hiking trail sat in front of me, humming along to a slow country song playing on the radio. He was a tall, strong man of about fifty with dark gray hair hidden under a black cowboy hat and a well-trimmed beard covering his jaw. He had pale blue slits for eyes that only added to his mysterious and daunting appearance. His name was Isaac.

I tried harder to remember the details from the night before; all of the information seemed to be only facts with no description. My family and I were on a camping trip. I met a man named Isaac, who later killed all my family with what I presumed to be his brothers, and took me as a prisoner. The thought of how far away from home I was made my skin crawl. Arcata, California, that's where I was from. Some camping spot in Montana's mountains was the last place I knew; more than a thousand miles away from home.

Now, I was in the back of a pickup truck going down a small gravel road further into the mountains. My wrists were bound with rough rope that dug into my skin. Dry blood stuck to the side of my face, and my head ached and erupted with pain every time I tried to move it or look out into the bright morning light. I tried to keep my eyes closed.

"Liam!" Isaac hissed, making my body tense. "Liam, wake up. Is she awake yet?"

I heard the man sitting beside me shuffle around, yawn, stretch, and then he shook my shoulder. My body instinctively became stiff against his touch. "Open your eyes," He said sternly. "I know you're awake."

I felt my face pucker up like a child who had just put something they weren't supposed to have in their mouth. As scared as I was of the man beside me, my body wouldn't let me obey him. "Kinsley," my skin crawled at the sound of my name. I hated myself for telling Isaac when I met him on the trail. "You need to listen to me." The feeling of cold metal on my neck made me jump. Against my better judgment, I opened my eyes to see the man named Liam sitting closer than I thought, a silver hunting knife placed against my neck. His pale skin and dark blue eyes contrasted his black hair, and he wore a hat that looked just like Isaac's. He looked like a younger, stronger, and more intimidating version of Isaac.

He had an ugly smirk across his face when I looked at him. "Good girl," He whispered. He relaxed, the cold metal leaving my throat. The sun felt like fire in my teary eyes, making my head hurt worse, but I didn't dare close them again. Liam only took his eyes off me to look up at Isaac and the other man driving the truck. The other man was chubby. He must have been older than Isaac by a few years, with white hair and dark blue eyes set on the road ahead of him.

Hearing their voices made my memories more clear. I remembered, now, waking up to Isaac's voice. I still couldn't place what exactly he said; he was yelling some command to his brothers. By then, I believe, my whole family was dead; I knew my brother was. I saw movement in my parent's tent, so I went to Andrews. The walls of his blue tent were stained red with his blood. His lifeless body was still wrapped in his sleeping bag, a large wound across his neck. I knew my parents must have died the same way, quiet, with no chance to fight or cry for help.

I couldn't help the scream that escaped me as I ran out of his tent, and that's when I saw Isaac covered in blood, right outside of my mom and dad's tent. I ran, but I wasn't fast enough, didn't know the woods well enough.

Now, I stared at Isaac as he shook his head at his brother. He was cleaned; the blood that covered him the night before was gone. I looked into the truck's bed, expecting to find some remnant of my family, perhaps even their bodies. Nothing. I wondered what he did with them, with our belongings, how he got cleaned. I wondered how long I was unconscious. I began to question if any of this was real.

The reality of the situation was confirmed with the feeling of Isaac tapping on my leg. "Kinsley," He said as if he had been saying it for a while. I didn't hear him, nor did I notice he shifted in his seat, and he was now turned around to face me. I looked into his eyes, and a flash of what they looked like the night before came to mind. He looked like a monster then. He didn't look like one now. He looked average, like a nice man you smile at as you walk by. The loud, harsh voice I remembered waking me was now soft, monotoned.

I could see why I trusted him when he asked me for directions on that trail.

"Don't touch me," I finally croaked. My throat was drier than I expected, and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.

I heard Liam snicker. "She speaks," He said sarcastically.

Isaac glared at his brother before trying to hand me a water bottle. I shook my head; I refused to trust him again. He shrugged and put the water back. "I understand how scared you must be," He started, turning back to me. He didn't understand. "I just want you to know we aren't going to hurt you unless you give us a reason to."

A flash of him covered in my family's blood came into my mind's eye once again.

The grief and fear I felt turned to anger in that moment. I squinted my eyes at him. "And what reason did my family give for you to murder them?"

Liam chuckled again. "Brave little thing, isn't she?"

The chubby man spoke for the first time that I had heard. "She's got a mouth on her."

I never thought of myself as brave or outspoken. But I knew they must have wanted something from me, or they would have killed me with my family. Whatever it was, I wasn't going to give it to them without a fight. In the state I was in, bound, half-concussed, and in a truck with three murderous men, snide remarks were the only fight I could give.

My eyes trailed back to Isaac's, his were narrowed at me, and I saw the monster again for a moment. He swallowed what I assumed to be frustration, and his features softened. "This all must be very confusing for you," He started again. "Once we get you to my house and you meet Zach, I'm sure everything will begin to make sense."

"Who is Zach?" I questioned.

"My son," He answered, and with that, he turned to face the road.

Tears began to fill my eyes once again, and I couldn't decide if they were from anger or grief. Perhaps both. If it wasn't for the watchful eyes of Liam beside me, I would use the ropes around my wrists to strangle Isaac. But at the same time, I felt too defeated, too heartbroken to fight even if I had the chance. I just wanted to scream, to throw a tantrum like a toddler who didn't get their way. All I could do was sit and cry, though.

It might have been minutes, maybe hours before Liam finally broke the silence again. "How old are you?" He asked. I could feel his piercing dark eyes staring at me, but I decided not to answer him. I didn't want them to know more than they already did about me. He asked again. I could hear the restlessness rise in his voice, but I still didn't answer. He asked one more time; this time, he didn't give me a chance to answer before pulling my hair to make me look at him. I screamed out in pain as he pulled on my scalp.

"When I ask you a question, I expect an answer!" He shouted. I could feel the familiar metal on my neck. "I didn't think you'd forget so easily what happened to your idiot brother. I'll do it to you too, girl. Don't think I won't!"

Tears kept falling down my cheeks as I finally choked out an answer. "Eighteen," I answered in a soft, pitiful voice. "I'm eighteen."

His grip loosened. The smirk returned to his face as he nodded his head, then relaxed into his seat. He looked up to Isaac; Isaac's eyes were wide, and he was turned in his seat like he was ready to jump into the back and save me. He looked as afraid as I felt. Liam's smirk turned into a grin as he studied his brothers features.

"Eighteen," Liam repeated, he turned back to me. "When's your birthday?"

I furrowed my eyebrows at him, and swallowed. "July 23rd," I answered.

His smirk widened into a grin, and he chuckled. "So you just turned eighteen?" He shook his head and began to laugh. "She's a kid," He said between breaths. "She's a little bratty kid. My god, she's younger than Mat. She's not going to listen to a thing Zach says." He continued to laugh, and my eyes drifted up to Isaac.

It was a moment before he seemed to register Liam's words. He looked me up and down one more time. My knees had risen to my chest; I wanted to hug them, but I settled with putting my bound wrists on top. He cleared his throat and turned back to face the road.

"Stop it, Liam," He said in his newly composed, monotoned voice. "Zach's twenty-two now; I already made him wait two more years than he should have. He needs her, and she's all we have." His voice cracked like he was nervous. It almost sounded like he was trying to reassure himself more than his brother.

Silence overtook the truck once again, and I was stuck contemplating Isaac's words. He needs her, and she's all we have. I didn't know what that was supposed to mean, but I knew I didn't like it. I knew a grown man was waiting for me wherever this truck was going. I took in deep breaths, trying to calm my racing heart, and keep myself from vomiting.

It seemed like only minutes went by before the truck started to slow down in front of the first house I had seen since I woke up. It was a large farmhouse with a black metal roof and shutters around the windows. Greenery began to crawl up the white siding, and the grass and flowers in the front yard had grown thick and beautiful. Behind the house were three barns, the fields surrounding the barns were lined with fencing and filled with different animals. I would have thought living on a ranch surrounded by mountains like this was a dream in different circumstances, but now I understood it to be a house of horrors.

As the truck turned into the long gravel driveway, Isaac turned around to me. A hideous grin was painted on his face, the excitement visible in his wrinkled features. "Welcome home, Kinsley."