Harold has been driving me up the wall.

I knew that moving in with him wasn't going to be easy, but I never thought it would be this difficult.

"I just don't see how dusting each and every page of your books makes any sense!" I whine to Harold, who is sitting across the room reading.

"Well how else are you supposed to keep your books clean?" He asks, peering over the frames of his glasses.

"Just give them a shake!"

I try to demonstrate but he leaps up from his chair and grabs the book from my hand, which he then caresses. I throw the rag in my hands down onto the couch and leave the room.

In the short amount of time that I've been here, Harold has somehow managed to make me not so fond of him. Gone is the man who would greet me at Amy's every Tuesday evening with a smile on his face. All I see now is an OCD maniac!

"Emerald! Get back here!" He calls out after me as I leave the room, and I hesitantly turn around to see him standing in the doorway of his office, holding a pair of scissors.

"I said get back here." He snarls, pointing the scissors at me.

I take a few steps backwards and my back presses up against the wall.

He staggers like a zombie, dragging one foot behind the other.

I must be dreaming.

I slap my face, trying to wake up like they do in the movies, but to no avail.

"Harold,"

He springs forward, clawing at my throat with one hand, and pressing the scissors under my jawline with the other.

"You're killing Amy," He whispers, his warm breath greeting my cheeks, " The same way you killed your father. Only this time, I'm not going to let you get away with it."

With a jolt, he pulls his arm back and attempts to stab me. I duck, and the scissors plunge into the wall. He keeps repeating my name over and over as he tries to pull them out.

"Emerald! Em.. Emerald?"

Out of the blue, it's as if a filter has been lifted off of my eyes. Harold isn't attacking me, but rather making sure that I'm alright.

"Wha- what happened?" I ask, "I wasn't asleep, was I?"

His coffee-coloured eyes study me for a second before he brings me over to the living room, where he tells me to lay down on the couch.

"Emerald, I think you had a panic attack."

A panic attack? It felt pretty real to me!

"So you didn't try to kill me?"

"Why on earth would I do that?"

"I don't know," I reply, standing up.

"Where are you going?" Harold puts his hand over the front door as he waits for an answer.

"Just for a walk," I tell him.

For once I don't have anywhere to be, and I actually could benefit from a walk to clear my head right about now.

"Alright." He says as he passes me my hat and coat.

When I walk out the door I am welcomed by crystalline snowflakes, tumbling through the air.

Winter is so pretty.

I stroll down the street for the first time in weeks, not hiding from a soul.

I can feel everyone's eyes peeled on me from inside their windows, but I could care less. Children playing in the snow stop and turn to face me, walking down the sidewalk.

"Hey, isn't that the runaway?" One of them whispers to their friend in a loud tone.

The runaway. I try to tell myself that they're just kids, who don't care about others' feelings, but that doesn't make it hurt any less. I keep walking, each step feeling worse than the last.

My mood brightens up when I see a dog in the centre of the street. It's a little Siberian husky pup, and he appears to be lost.

"Hi little guy!" I kneel down to pet him, and he rolls onto his stomach.

"Ahh you're getting all wet!" I exclaim, picking the puppy up and cradling him in my arms, "Now, where do you live?"

Being a dog and all, he doesn't answer, but instead he licks my face.

"Here?" I point to the bluish-grey house to the left, and he barks.

As I walk up the driveway, I start to wonder if the dog is only barking because he doesn't want to go home. I have to give him back though, as I know that if I don't, I'll never be able to sleep at night (even though I hardly sleep as it is!).

I knock on the paint-chipped front door, and pet the dog in my arms as I wait. When no one answers the door, I start thinking. Maybe I can keep him after all!

My glimpse of hope is over before I even get the chance to enjoy it, as when I look up from burying my face in his fur the door is wide open, and a tall man is standing there.

"Hi is this your—"

"Hand him over." The man mumbles.

He grabs the dog out of my arms by his collar, and throws him onto the floor behind him. The pup lands with a whimper.

"You probably shouldn't—"

"Yeah I don't want to hear it." He says, closing the door partially.

Through the crack in the door I can see him watching me as I make my way down the driveway.

That poor dog. If I ever do any sneaking around ever again, It'll be to come back and get the little guy.

I make a mental note in my head as I continue walking on the sidewalk.

After basking in the snow for a couple more minutes, I decide that I should go back to Harold's.

I'm stomping the snow off of my sneakers on the doormat, when Harold comes to the door.

"Guess what?" He exclaims, with a sly look on his face.

"You're giving me up for adoption?" I joke, but he doesn't laugh.

"You're not actually giving me up for adoption, right?"

"Not entirely."

He tells me to keep my shoes on, and he grabs his coat off of the coat rack.

"Where are we going?" I ask, but he remains silent.

He leads me to Amy's house, and we both get in her car. I don't know why Harold doesn't just buy a car himself, but I'm not about to ask. Since he's apparently mute, I don't say a word.

Only when we pull into the hospital parking lot do I realize that we're visiting Amy. As Harold shuts off the car, I pull down the visor and check myself out in the mirror.

Ew.

Instead of the average-looking teen, reflected in the mirror is a grotesque, repelling gorgon of a girl. After a moment of combing my hair with my fingers, Harold assures me that I look okay and we get out of the car.

Inside of the main doors, a surprise is waiting for me.

"Amy!" I scream, when I see her face.

She is sitting in a wheelchair, still looking weak.

"The hospital called me while you were gone for your walk and said that she's ready to go home." Harold explains to me.

I hug him before going over to Amy for another round of hugs.

"A..little tight..dear!" Amy exclaims in a low, raspy voice.

"Sorry," I apologize, "Hey! You can talk!"

"Barely, but it's better than nothing!"

Her body is still rather limp, but at least she can speak.

We talk for a few minutes, before Harold pushes her over to the car.

Scared that I'm going to drop her, I let him lift her into the back seat.

On the drive back to Easy street, I update Amy on the things that have been happening while she's been in the hospital, minus the whole spray paint/frenemy disaster. I think I'll save that conversation for another time.

Instead of going back to Amy's house like I thought we were, Harold drives to his house.

"Aren't we going to Amy's house?" I ask.

"I think it'd be best if you stayed here for a little while just so that I can keep an eye on you." Harold says to Amy.

"That's nice of you Har, but I just want the comfort of my own home right now." Amy admits.

He nods, and I go inside and grab my things. When I get back in the car, they're both silent. Amy looks at me at me a bit differently than she was a few minutes ago, but I brush it off. I'm too happy that she's home to be bothered right now.

I thank Harold for watching me (although it wasn't all that pleasant), and I get out of the car. Because of my new phobia, I ask him to carry Amy into the house.

"Just keep going!" I usher them past the living room, where the walls are littered with graffiti.

Harold gently lays his mom down onto her bed.

"I didn't sign any legal papers for your adoption yet, so if they come by my house, I'll let them know that you're with Amy." Harold tells me.

After he leaves, I sit next to Amy on the bed and talk to her for a while until I get self conscious that I'm talking the ear off of her.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" I ask, trying to change the topic to something a little less self centered.

"I hate to ask anything of you," she replies, "but I am feeling a bit hungry! Would you mind making me something simple?"

"Of course!"

Unlike my kitchen at home, Amy's kitchen does have food, it's just expired.

"I'm just going to run down to the grocery store!" I yell out.

The sun is setting, making the street look like something from a post card.

As I near the bottom of the street, I look over to the bluish-grey house from earlier, to see if the little pup is outside. He isn't, but instead his shadow appears in the window on the side of the house.

I get distracted by the outline of the dog and slip on a patch of ice, landing on my tail bone.

I pick myself back up, and return my gaze back to the window. The cute puppy's shadow is no longer cute. In the few seconds that I was down on the ground, the husky has somehow transformed into a hellhound.

His head is sideways, and I can feel his beady eyes staring at me. I shake my head, trying to determine if this is just another one of my hallucinations or not, but it seems to be real.

I look away, and start speed walking past the house. In a few minutes, I am at the store, and I get a few things with the money that Amy gave me.

On the way back, I peek into the window of the wolf's house once again, and the frightening shadow is still there.

I begin to run, if for no other reason than to get away from the lycanthrope.

"Where are you going Emerald?" Amy shouts out as I open up the door.

"Nowhere!" I answer, taking off my shoes, "I just got back from the store! I'm gonna make you some soup!"

"Emerald?"

"Yes?" I reply, walking up to her room.

Her face seems frightened, as if she'd just seen a ghost.

"So you weren't here for the past twenty minutes?"

"No. I told you, I was at the store!"

"That's odd," she remarks, "I could've sworn that someone was downstairs the entire time you were gone."