A bright light blinded me, causing my head to spin. I squinted my eyes, and my head felt heavy and sore as I tried to lift it. All I wanted to do was identify where I was, but a white-hot pain ripped through my brain, so I groaned and dropped my head back onto the soft pillow.

Using just my peripheral vision, and my beautiful view of the ceiling, I noted that everything was white: the walls, the floor, the furniture, the sheets, the furniture. It smelled like air-freshener, and the air was cold on my skin, raising goosebumps.

I tried to hoist my legs over the edge of the bed – whilst keeping my head as straight as possible – but they felt unusually limp and numb. Half-awake, I carefully tilted my head to the side and peeked down at myself. There was a large band-aid plastered across a needle on the inside of my elbow, which was supplying me with some sort of drip.

It was only then that I noticed the hollow aching that filled my entire body, and the heavy white bandages wrapped around my foot, and calf. Then I felt the tubes that snaked up my nostrils like snakes. Curious, I lifted my good hand to observe it, before then a warm soft one caught it.

"Don't touch." Jake said simply from the chair beside my bed.

His voice sparked some kind of recollection inside me. Something had happened to me, but the reminiscence of the nights events seemed to be just beyond the horizon. They where like smoke; I could reach for them, but not quite grab a hold.

However, my efforts took a halt when I took a look at Jake's face, and all the memories unpleasantly came rushing back, hitting me like a tidal wave.

The crushing of my car, the wicked smile and blood red eyes, the shattering of glass, fire spreading my body, my hysterical crying... I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn't want to think about that. There was a more important thought entering my brain. "You stayed." I smiled.

"You asked, and I listened." He sounded serious, but a beautiful smile spread across his face, making his soft brown eyes glitter.

He didn't let go of my hand, instead intertwining his fingers through my own, resting our hands against the mattress.

Although he was smiling, I noticed something odd in his eyes. He looked weary, as if expecting something bad to happen. But I couldn't think about what that might be; I had questions – millions and millions – that desperately needed to be answered. I thought I might explode if they weren't.

"I'm in a hospital right?" I asked as my eyes adjusted to the blinding lights.

He nodded. "Your mother came to visit right after you got brought in; I needed to leave for a bit... she wouldn't want to see me."

"So, you did leave!" I said accusingly, allowing a teasing side slip into my words.

"It was a necessary precaution." A small smile tilted up the corners of his mouth. It was rather mesmerising. "Your mum would kill both of us if she knew I was here right now."

"Do you even know what happened last night?" My mother wasn't within my list of worries right now. More crucial subjects needed to be discussed. "I mean... it was crazy! How could a person even—"

"It was two nights ago." He interrupted, looked nervous, his smile now gone.

My heart skipped a beat, and emotion rose in me like lava in a volcano. "TWO NIGHTS?" I sounded slightly hysterical, then tried to compose myself after seeing the shock – and slight amusement - in his face.

"The doctors said you had a concussion and some cuts that needed stitching, but nothing permanent. Lucky for you, the nurses said they can take out your drip and remove your bandages today."

"Whatever," I said, trying to change the subject back to my burning question. "It doesn't matter. Do you have a logical explanation or not?"

"I have an explanation." He looked sad, guilty almost. He looked down at our hands. "It's not logical though."

"I don't care. What's you're theory?" The question seemed to be gnawing at my insides, trying to get out.

"It's no theory, but I'm afraid I can't tell you." I don't know what frustration my face showed, but he sighed apprehensively.

"It can't be too bad. And besides, I deserve the truth."

He nodded, and leaned towards my ear. His whisper was barely audible. "I'll tell you – but not right now." He glanced towards the security camera in the corner of the room before continuing. "You're right, you deserve to know. When you get out the hospital, I'll take you to a safe, secure place and tell you."

"Oh, come on Jacob. It really can't be that bad." I wanted to be understanding, but my curiosity refused to let the how, why, and what be left unanswered.

"It is that bad, and when I tell you, you'll understand." He seemed to consider that for a moment. "Actually, I don't expect you to understand," he pondered some more. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you spat in my face and called me psychotic, but I think you deserve a chance at the truth."

"Okay..." Clearly, I had no idea what he was talking about. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if I was still passed out and was in the middle of a lucid dream or something.

"I know your confused. But try not to think about it too much."

"What do I think about then?"

"I don't know. What do you want to think about?"

I looked down at our hands - still twined together - and blushed. He seemed to notice the direction of my thoughts and he sighed, before releasing my hand, and resting his own in his lap.

Neither one of us spoke, so I decided to change the subject.

"So," I started, "When did my mum visit?"

"She was here yesterday morning, but she's supposed to come and visit again today."

As if she heard was listening to our conversation and took it as a cue, I began to hear my mothers familiar soft voice talking to a nurse outside the door. She sounded worried, but relieved.

"I think this is my cue to leave," Jake said.

"Will you come back?"

"No."

He must have seen the disappointment in my eyes, because he smiled down at me, resulting in the stopping of my heart. "The nurse just told your mother you would be okay to go home later today, so I'll see you tomorrow."

"School..." I muttered.

"Though, I doubt your mum will let you go to school tomorrow – I'll ditch."

"But I thought my mum didn't like you—"

"She won't know."

He smiled mischievously, and I sighed – those dimples. "I'd better leave now," he said, never relaxing his grin.

Getting up from the chair, he opened the door to the left of the bed and slid through. How he would get past my mum unnoticed, I wasn't sure, but I some feeling in my gut told me to trust him.

After my mum entered the room, we sat and talked for a while, then, once we'd spoken about everything from how I was feeling to what we where eating to dinner tonight, I gave Yasmine a call.

She sounded extremely worried about me - my mum had mentioned she was itching to call me - so I reassured her that I was okay, and the worst of the damage was a small concussion and some cuts and bruises.

Late that night, I sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window as my mum drove me home. The dull ache in my head and legs throbbed in time with my heartbeat, but I tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the sky. The full moon hung high above, its silvery glow spilling over the landscape, casting long, stretching shadows beneath the trees.

I let my mind drift, tracing invisible patterns between the stars, searching for shapes, for meaning—anything to distract myself from the pain. And then, like a whisper of a dream, an image formed so vividly in my mind that, for a fleeting moment, I thought I must have dozed off.

Jake and I, lying beneath the trees, swallowed by the night. The moon bathed us in silver light as we stared up at the sky, our hands resting at our sides, fingers intertwined in the cool, dewy grass. The warmth of his touch felt real—so real that my breath caught in my throat.

"Kay?" My mothers voice pulled me out of my daydream. She looked worried – she had probably been calling my name for a while now.

"Yes – sorry, I was just thinking."

"What were you thinking about?"

"I don't remember," I lied.

The rest of the ride home was boring, and after a simple dinner of toast and butter, my mother held my arm, helping me up the stairs (my bandages had been removed, but I was still covered in cuts and bruises and my arms and legs ached).

I climbed into bed, exhausted. Although I was unconscious for two whole days, it felt like I hadn't ever slept.

"Sleep in tomorrow, Kay." My mum said, before shutting the door. "You won't be going to school – the best thing you can do right now is rest."

"Okay," I said softly.

The door shut with a creak, and I heard the thudding of my mother's footsteps thudding quietly downstairs.

Now my mother wasn't intently watching my every move, I gave myself permission to think about the recent events.

I was almost killed at the gas station; my car was crushed like paper, a vicious, red-eyed monster attacked me, and it felt like fire was consuming me.

Then Jake saved me – I wasn't sure how he got that thing off me, but he seemed to have scared it away.

Then, the I realised something that hit me with the force of a tsunami. The voice that I had heard when I'd first entered the gas station - which I now knew was Jacobs - was calling something. "No! Dad! - Calm! Relax!"

The entire time, Jacob was the one calling for his dad to stop.

My eyes bulged with realisation. Dad. The red-eyed, pale skinned beast that attacked me was Jake's dad.

That seemed impossible – Jake was the most caring, compassionate person I had ever met, and his dad seemed psychopathic. Surely that couldn't be right. Maybe I had heard Jake's words wrong, or maybe I'd gotten the dot-to-dot wrong and these where two completely unconnected stories.

My breaths came in quick, sudden jolts, and I could feel a panic attack coming. Now wasn't the time for that - I close my eyes and brought back that daydream I'd had in the car.

I could see it so clearly. Jake and I turned to look at each other, the light making him look even more beautiful. His brown eyes where deep, and the moon cast a shadow across his face, outlining his jaw and cheekbones. He rolled over onto his side, and kissed me softly.

My stomach danced with excitement, the feeling so real.

But my sleep was not restful. In my ears I could still hear the ringing of his words. Dad. I had to be wrong. Jacob would have told me if his dad was the one who attacked me... wouldn't he?