LEA

I hiss in pain as I remove the bandage from my back. After rummaging through this family's cupboard, I had found some salve, and applied it generously to my back before wrapping gauze on it.

The bandage is bloody, and as I remove it, it cracks open some scabs, sending trickles of blood down my back. Using a wet rag, I rub my back, awkwardly hugging myself to get my arm back there. After it's clean, I apply more salve and wrap a new bandage around it.

I pull a new shirt on that I found in a clean laundry pile. I'm long past the point where I'm worried about using other people's things.

I sit down at the counter and put one hand up to my face, leaning on it. It's been hours since I saw the monster, and yet I can't get it's image out of my head. Horrible green eyes, a shredded cloak moving around it.

I open my eyes, staring out the window where it's still light out. A shadow crosses the floor to my left, and I try my best to ignore it, and to ignore the extreme cold that comes with it. It will pass, it will pass. A couple of these shadows have crossed the house, and each time I hate to see them.

I stand up abruptly, and feel in my pocket for my keys and phone. They're both there, and I go downstairs to the back door, where I leave. I don't want to go out the front, where part of me is sure that the monster will still be.

I walk until I reach the next house, where I go onto the road, heading back to the house I had left the car at. Each step I find myself wanting to twist around, checking if something is following me. Each time I look, I don't see anything.

I've reached my car and am starting to pull out my keys when I hear it. A growl. My heart rate immediately accelerates, and my movements become panicky as I unlock the car, jump inside of it and lock the doors.

The monster steps out from around the corner of the house. It's not the same monster, which terrifies me, as it means there are more than one. If there are two, why not three? Or four? Or any number of them.

It's walking on four legs, with thick, greasy fur covering it. There are places on its body where the fur stops, and scales break through. I don't wait to see anymore, jamming the keys in the ignition and turning them.

I jam the car into reverse and step on the gas, my tires skidding for a moment until they gain traction. The monster roars and my hairs raise on end as it gets onto two feet, stretching to at least eight feet tall.

My phone buzzes in my pocket just as the monster falls back onto its four feet and charges. The car is several yards ahead of it, and I twist the wheel to face the road, stepping on the gas again. It jolts forward, and I check my rear view mirror to see the monster running. And gaining on me.

I accelerate, turning a corner way too fast for even my own liking. The bear-like creature doesn't have any problems following, and it cuts across the yard to close some of the distance between us.

As soon as I'm on the highway, I jam my foot to the floor, watching the speedometer rise. My breath catches in my throat as my hand twitches, and I swerve into the next lane. My heart pounds, and I dare to check my rear view mirror for the monster. It stands on two legs in the middle of the road, giving a bellowing roar, before falling back to four legs.

I don't ease on the gas, blowing through several red lights before I feel safe enough to slow down. Every nerve is on edge, waiting as though the monster should appear in front of me all of a sudden.

The gas light on my car dings on, and I groan. Where on earth is the nearest gas station? The highway stretches on for a few more miles, until finally I catch sight of a gas station, and turn into it. My breaths still come out shaky from the chase, and every noise I hear sets my teeth on edge.

With nothing better to do as the gas fills up, I check the time on my phone, seeing it getting darker around me. My heart freezes in place as I see a notification. A message.

My fingers tremble as I unlock it, reading it over and over again. If you get this, respond immediately. I check the name of the person who sent it, distantly remembering him as someone I did a group project with.

'I received this message. Please respond.' I hit send, pleading for him to respond. I need to know what is going on.