Tripp Lake Camp

2 A.M.

The forest had tentacles and fangs 
   All the stones and branches and thorns tore through Ingrid's bare feet as she ran screaming through the dead of night. But she didn't stop. Not the stones and rocks cutting into her feet. Not the branches smacking against her ankles. Not even the throne whipping against her blood stained cheek made her stop.
    Stopping wasn't an option. To stop was to die. So she kept running. The prickly shrubs wrapped around her ankle and ate away at her flesh. The prickly shrub stretched, quivering, before Ingrid's momentum set her free. If it hurt. She couldn't tell. Her body already held more pain than it could handle.
    It was instinct that made her run. An unconscious knowledge that made her carry on, no matter what tried to stop her. Her memory was blurred but she knew she had to keep on going. She knew it her flight kicked in it must of been between life or death. She was certain she'd die right there on the forest floor if she stopped. So she ran. She yelped and screamed for help. She didn't know how long she'd been running for.
     A white yellow glow illuminated in the distance, faint along the tree-crowded horizon.
    Headlights.
    Was she near a road? Ingrid hoped she was, even if she was just near safety.
     She ran faster, increased her screams for help, bolted towards the light. 
      As she appeared closer running faster and faster, she saw a silhouette standing in the headlights gleaming reflection.
     A man.
     Him.
     No. Not him.
     Someone else.
     Safety.
     Ingrid picked up her pace. Her blood-soaked arms reached out, as if it could somehow pull the stranger closer. The movement caused a shooting pain through her whole body to lose control. And with the pain memories came crashing back, an understanding of why she had to run. One so brutally awful that it had to be real.
      Only Ingrid remained.
      All her friends were dead.
      She was the only one of her classmates alive.