Good For Gone

Night Visitor

My eyes flew open. I held my breath, hoping it was only my imagination.

But it wasn't. The low growl was real, and getting louder. I propped myself up on my elbow and was about to ask Peter if he could hear it too.

But before I could his head whipped around to me. A gasp caught in my throat as I saw his eyes, the soft blue eaten away by black. The growl that escaped from deep in his chest thundered on even louder.

I'd never seen him look like that. The normally happy and smiling face was filled with so much hatred. I don't think I'd ever seen such pure, unadulterated anger. The lines of his face sharpened, pulled around his teeth in a snarl.

I backed up against the wall instinctively, but instantly regretted it. The movement set him off. He jumped up to his hands and knees, the blanket sliding to the ground pitifully.

He moved towards me slowly, each step deliberate and smooth. Suddenly he seemed to carry the same lithe as a full grown tiger. My heart sped up so abruptly I had to fight the feeling of faintness in my head.

As he got closer I could see his eyes better. The iris completely swallowed up by a cloudy darkness. And as he got so close our noses were nearly touching, I could see my own terrified expression reflected in them.

I jumped up, losing a lot of momentum to the air mattress. An arm shot out, causing me to trip and topple onto the rug. I felt his hand press down against my spine, compressing my lungs into the carpet. Gasping desperately, I kicked out, hearing a yowl as I collided with something solid. The pressure on my back disappeared and I shot to my feet.

There was a soft splintering sound as I pushed my way through the front door and bolted. The angry snarls grew softer the more I ran, so I dared to look back. He was crouched in the doorway watching me, but he didn't venture past the small front porch.

That didn't slow me down by any means. I ran like my life depended on it all the way home. I knew I couldn't go inside without getting questioned why I was barging through the door at night looking terrified.

I trekked up my driveway, constantly swiveling my head around to check the surrounding trees. Every time I turned I swore I could see a silhouette standing among the trees. I'd never felt more watched.

I got to my car and crawled in the back, thankful that I never bothered locking it. I clicked every door shut and crammed myself into the floor behind the front seats. But every time I allowed myself a glace up I expected to see him standing there on the other side of the window.

He never was though. It was only the darkness and the trees, which were enough to freak me out on a normal day. I folded my arms over my face and staid as still as I could while I waited for my pulse to slow down.

I'd been so stupid. That whole time, what was I expecting? There was obviously something severely wrong. He'd probably been tricking me all along so that he could get me alone at night. Why did I think he was a valid source of friendship? It was a whole new level of pathetic. Yeah the dead body that comes back to life, definitely best pal material. No wonder I didn't have any other friends; I was that stupid girl in the horror movie who gets killed half way through.

I didn't sleep the whole night, I just laid there thinking about his contorted face and imaging a slew of terrifying possible scenarios while trying my best to fight back the tears that rolled down the sides of my face. I didn't know if I was sadder about almost being killed, or that I was alone again.