My heart slammed against my ribcage. The cold-kiss air did little to comfort me in the wake of the crime I was committing, and thinking over all the possible punishments my mother could bestow didn't help with the cold sweat breaking out on my back. Still, I kept reminding myself of the reason I'd opened that latch in the first place, of why I was now walking these desolate streets alone.
Maybe I would get caught, yes. Maybe I'd get grounded for the rest of my days. But at least I'd get to be a teenager, if only for one night. And Alia would, too. The thought alone spurred me onwards.
As I walked, my eyes drifted. The streetlamps spilt light like ichor upon the concrete, lighting the way in periodic patches. The disorganised symphony of crickets were an ominous backtrack of rumbling anticipation, the smell of pine and moisture setting me on edge. Not a single soul wandered those streets. Not so much as a car rumbled by on the road. Small as the town was, it strange to see it so desolate. In Maplewood, there was always some form of life.
Not tonight, though.
I turned my gaze skyward. All traces of orange were gone, replaced instead by an inky black sea of twinkling stars. The brightness of the full moon struck me, and it was only then did I notice the faint silvery light coating every inch of the street. It was as though someone had struck a match and set the world aflame with muted silvers and glaring whites.
I walked further, the townhouses and streetlamps blurring in my peripheral. My stomach churned, and everything felt... wrong. To the eye, everything looked normal, but there was something off that I just couldn't put my finger on. Maybe it was just the anxiety of getting caught, or the eerie hush of the streets playing tricks with my head. Still, I picked up the pace.
Desperate for consolation, I glanced at the houses to my left. The light spilling through the windows was a comforting sight, and occasional flicker of a television reminding me that life was all about.
I was familiar with this part of town. Some would call it the poorer end, but I was proud to call it home. There was a kind of character to this street, something unlike the grand ambiance of the houses upon the hills. This part was humble, quiet, and I daresay mysterious. Thick curtains and overgrown shrubbery concealed the lives of men and women alike. On the hills, such a concept didn't exist. Everyone's lives were flaunted through the large-paned windows, displayed for the world to see. There were no secrets in the hills, no quiet. And though our town couldn't be any more divided, one thing remained constant.
The forest.
I couldn't help but glance to my right where the forest lay. I smiled, recalling the bright crockery days of my childhood, days where I had frolicked with the neighbourhood kids in the woods. Back then, I hadn't understood the disdainful glances thrown our way from the other adults when we'd return home covered in dirt and mucked by leaves. We were only kids having fun. To us, the financial divide didn't exist; we were just glad to have each other.
But even that hadn't lasted. My mother had quickly prohibited me from entering the forest after a boy had claimed to have seen a wolf. Even as a mere ten-year-old, I'd known that wasn't true. Wolves didn't live in this section of California, let alone ones as big as the boy had described. Even so, my mother had bought the story all the same, and from then on, I'd spent the rest of my days on this end of town, studying in my room or going on occasional runs around the block. Everybody grew apart, and while those of us who remained became estranged to each other, some families just disappeared entirely. It was as though they'd never really existed in the first place.
I squinted. Even now, I could see the pine trees swaying in the wind, their dark silhouettes shuddering and jerking. I'd entered the forest enough times to know of what lay behind that treeline, of the secret hollows and sun-bathed clearings. I smiled as the memories flooded back.
Amidst my reminiscence, I'd almost missed the red spots glinting in the edge of my vision. My gaze snapped to the source in an instant, and I stilled. Nothing was there, nothing aside from a cluster of untrimmed bushes, anyway. Their shadows were so dark I wondered if the light of the moon dared to touch them at all. I pulled my jumper tighter around my shoulders and picked up the pace. I rarely went on nightly walks, and not just because of my curfew. There was something frightening about walking alone at night, where anyone could be hiding in the shadows.
Or maybe I was just paranoid.
My apprehension dwindled as a car approached in the distance. Its purring engine and glaring headlights were a welcome sight, a much-needed reprieve from incessant click of crickets. As it neared, my blood chilled, and it was then that it struck me. I wasn't apprehensive because of any lingering anxiety, or even just the general notion of walking alone at night.
No. I was being watched.
I shook my head, trying to calm the small tremors running through my legs. I'm sure it's nothing, I assured myself. You're just overthinking, as usual. Even so, I wasn't wholly convinced. It was only then that I recognised how dark and shadowed everything around me was, the shapes shifting and obscure.
My worries soothed as the bright headlights of the car bathed everything in light, chasing away the shadows. The deafening growl of its engine filled my ears, drowning out the racing beat of my heart.
I was about to let out a long breath when my ears picked up something else amidst the roaring. A rhythmic clicking, as though a rogue cricket had made its way onto the sidewalk next to me. But then it got louder, melding into the sound of nails clacking against concrete. Whatever it was, it was getting closer.
My first instinct was to run. The rational part of my brain immediately dismissed it as ridiculous, but the urge was overwhelming, and after a silted moment of debate, I broke into a sprint. The wind screamed in my ears, matching the roar of the car's engine as it neared. Perhaps it was simply my fear playing tricks on me, but I could've sworn I heard snarling and growling that didn't belong to any engine.
The car boomed past, and in my confused panic, I tripped over a lip and slammed face-first into the concrete. My teeth sang, a metallic tang flooding my mouth as something split. I remained on the ground as the car roared by, afraid to glance up, dreading to see whatever had been chasing me.
It was a dog, I told myself, not wholly convinced. It probably got spooked by the car and ran off. You're safe.
After a few moments of dead silence, I sucked in a breath and flipped myself over, eyes darting wildly about the space. My gaze snapped to anything that moved -- from swaying branches of trees to jerking shadows on the concrete.
Confident I was alone, I tucked my knees into my chest, trying to control the tremors in my knees. My breaths came in shallow gasps, painfully loud and sharp in the eerie hush of the night. As I finally mustered the strength to stand, something caught my eye.
And my heart stopped.
There, tucked behind a white picket fence, a sinister pair of blood-red eyes glowed. My heart crawled to as my vision adjusted. A long, black maw extended out from a lupine face, black lips pulled back to reveal rows upon rows of stark white canines, glinting nauseatingly in the moonlight. I was sure I was imagining the beast until it stepped out into the light.
I had never laid eyes on such a creature. In the light of the street lamp, its mottled grey-and-black fur was like and overcast sky, dark and dreary. My first thought was wolf, but the beast wasn't built like a typical wolf from Yellowstone, or any wolf for that matter. Its huge body rippled with muscles, moving with a type of predatory grace that had every primitive instinct in me screaming to run. Its thick, trunk-like arms and legs were very different to the typical spindly legs of wild wolves. My eyes drifted to the talons attached to its paws, and that's when I realised they weren't paws at all. I could pick out the thick, splayed fingers, as though some mad scientist has merged a dog's foot with a human hand.
And not to mention the eyes.
Red, like the blood of a battle, or the scene of a murder. They glowed like rubies, glaring at me with such ill-intent that I immediately felt sick. I swayed on my feet as the creature growled again, its evil gaze narrowing upon me as though I were prey.
In a panic, I whirled on my heel and broke into a sprint. I'd never ran so fast in my life, and I knew the rate at which my legs turned would put any of my personal bests to shame. I didn't have time to dwell on the fact, though, because before long the beast was hot in toe. Between the clacking of its claws and soft thump of its pads, gruesome snorts and snarls rang out to greet me, a sound that simultaneously started and stopped my heart.
The creature was catching up at an abnormal rate, and it wasn't long before I could feel the hot puffs of its breath on the back of my knees. I let out a loud yell as it hit my back, sending me careening towards the concrete. I had just enough mind to twist mid-fall and preserve my face, but it was futile. Darkness smothered my vision as an impossible weight pushed down on me, my bones barking under the pressure.
Just then, an agonising pinch formed at my side. It felt as though rows of hot daggers had pierced my skin, burrowing themselves into my flesh like poisonous barbs. I screamed out in agony, hoping someone would hear my distress and save me from this nightmare.
But no such thing was needed. The pain stopped as soon as it started. The pressure on my body disappeared as the beast took off, the retreating clack of its claws faint in the buzzing of my ears. I lay there for a few moments, sobbing quietly, gripping my side in an attempt to contain the awful fire the burned outwards from the wound. I was going to be sick.
After what felt like an eternity of laying on cold concrete, I eventually hauled myself upright, hissing at the white-hot pain shooting through my side. My eyes darted about, searching frantically for a pair of glowing red eyes or mottled fur. When nothing came, I clutched my wound with a wince, horrified to see a thin film of blood appear on my hands.
The beast -- whatever it was -- had bitten me.
Gasping, I chucked off my jacket and lifted my shirt, peering at the bite. I expected a deep gash, something that would bleed out infinitely, but I was surprised to be met with a set of shallow puncture wounds. In fact, they barely pierced my skin at all, and the blood that had escaped was clotting. With the way my side burned, I ought to have been stabbed, not grazed.
I swallowed, glancing behind me. I knew I should've gone home. I knew I should've gone home and embraced whatever punishment would await me. But then I peered again at the wound. Shallow. It was shallow. I weighed the risks in my head, despite not at all being in the mental state to make decisions. A shallow wound... with very little blood. That could be treated. It wasn't like I was bleeding out. All I would need is some anti-biotics. Those could wait a day, right?
I mentally slapped myself. No, I needed to get checked! I'd been bitten by a wild animal -- who knew how many diseases it could have given to me? I should go home.
I was about to do just that when I remembered why I'd gone out in the first place. Alia. Alia would want to see me. This was her moment, and mine, in many ways. Besides, I'd already done so many reckless things tonight -- what would one more reckless decision mean?
So, slipping into the blue puff jacket and picking off the lose threads I had been frayed in the bite, I did perhaps the dumbest thing I'd ever done to date.
I whirled on my heel and continued my quest towards the party.