The sound of wood creaking woke him up.
Something was outside. His heart pounded rapidly. Eyes wide.
He took the handgun from the drawer beside his bed while blinking rapidly to chase the tiredness away.
He slowly walked to the front door and peaked through the little hole in it. It was 12:00 a.m and everything was dark, the corridor looked dark and empty, everything was dead silent for a moment, increasing his panic.
There was a shadow moving. He backed until he was just around the corner, hiding behind a wall while still being able to look at the door, he waited.
Then he heard footsteps. No. It was something else. They weren't feet. It was a kind of clicking, like claws.
Suddenly, there was intense sniffing and a small growl. It was a dog. He watched with narrow eyes trying to make out something, then the animal was in his vision span and he was able to make out the outline of a dog through the hole. But it was much bigger, a wolf. Bright red eyes looked straight at him.
His eyes widened and tried to not panic. He started to run with labored breathing and hit the sharp edge of the kitchen counter with his arm, he lost his balance and landed hard on the ground. He at clutched his arm, where hot blood trickled down to his elbow.
His scream got stuck in his throat and came out as a small whimper.
He heard the wolf clawing at the door with brutal force. It was trying to get him. He crawled behind the counter, his hurt arm limp on his side.
The wolf changed tactic and decided that throwing himself to the door was a better idea. The hard thumping of it's body impacting the door was the only thing heard, the previous burning pain from his arm was gone, the only pain he felt was in his chest, his heart beating in rhythm with the thumping, the fear of death coming for him.
Then there was silence. He only felt the floor shaking with every step the wolf took, then it started sniffing, looking for him, the sound of its claws heading to his direction woke him from his thoughts.
He saw the handgun on the floor. He started to drag himself and tried to reach towards it with his good arm. His hand wrapped around it and looked up. Red eyes stared down at his teary eyes. The wolf growled and the silence was filled with the sound of bones snapping.
With a cry, he held the gun with both arms and without hesitation, he pointed it at the slowly growing form of the "wolf". With ragged breath he now stared at bright blue eyes, and when they took a step towards him, he shot.
He choked on his breath.
He tried to ignore the flaming pain running through his arm.
This wasn't working. He closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing without counting. It made him too conscious of his fears.
He tilted his head and looked at the body at his feet. Too close. It almost reached him.
Before him was man.
Tan skin and dark curls covered his face. Beneath his head a pool of red was spreading.
He hated blood. It scared him. He's been afraid of it since he was a kid.
He'd been with his sister playing hide and seek. There was always this rule that said they couldn't hide inside the forest. Apart from the fact that his mother was scared of the woods and didn't want them close, it was easier to find the one hiding.
He was always bad at hiding. And decided to go a bit into the forest where his sister would never find him. It was the perfect plan. Or so he thought. He'd hidden behind a giant rock that lead to a steep hill covered with sharp rocks.
Her sister had probably reached 60 by then and was looking for him. He knew that she knew he had stepped into the forest.
He heard twigs snapping close to him and he tried to get impossibly smaller and closer to the rock. Suddenly the rock was pushed towards him and made him loose his balance. He heard a short laugh and a "Found you!". He didn't get to say anything. He then felt the rush of air around him and felt weightless.
He instinctively threw his arms around his head and fire spread around his elbow. His vision turned black before he felt pain or was able see the panicked expression of his sister.
He woke up the next day with a cast on his left arm and a stained gauze on his head.
His mother was beside him holding his good arm and told him with teary eyes she would never let him get hurt again.
She would be long gone two weeks later.
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