The next week passed, probably. I didn’t see much of it. The doctors gave me some jabs and antibiotics during the checkup, then said I was fine and sent me home. They were wrong, but I didn’t argue.

The days after that were a haze of nothing. I desperately needed something to distract myself from what had happened, but nothing would work. Any time I tried to switch my brain on to do something, even something mindless like watching TV, it let in a rush of thoughts and memories and I started to feel again. Couldn’t have that. Instead I just stared at the walls and tried as hard as I could to sleep, hoping that time would help somehow. Not that sleep even helped much, I always woke up feeling just as tired as before I went to sleep, or sometimes even more exhausted. Probably still having bad dreams.

My teachers were understanding, or so I was told. I couldn’t explain to them what had happened, or especially why it hit so close to home. Dad could, he volunteered to do all the phone calling for me. Or maybe it was emailing, I didn’t ask. I’d told him that I needed at least two weeks off before I could even think of going back to class, and he managed to arrange extensions on the assignments I had due. He said something about catching up on the classes I would miss, too, but I wasn’t listening.

I wouldn’t say I got better, but after those first few days I got to the point where I could pretend to be functioning. I even cooked dinner one night, so Dad didn’t have to. He’d always been a better cook than me, but it meant he could take the night off, and I think it made him happy to see me moving around the house and doing stuff. And I’d reached the point where mindless work sorta worked as a distraction, so it helped me a little too in that way.

What I didn’t know was whether I’d reached the point where I could talk to people about what had happened.

I had two missed calls from Luke, or two that I knew about at least. I’d switched my phone off after the second. He at least deserved to know that I was physically okay, but that conversation led to other conversations. Still, I didn’t have to actually talk to him in order to talk to him.

Great. After twenty minutes of staring at my phone I’d finally talked myself into it, and now I had to actually do it. I took a deep breath, switched it on, and opened up the chat app we used. Sure enough, I had unread private messages from Alex, Grace, Luke and Gavin. I checked the ones from Luke first.

Karas Dragonman (07/05/52 09:32) Hey, just wanted to check in again. you all good?

Karas Dragonman (07/05/52 09:32) *You

Karas Dragonman (08/05/52 11:57) If there’s anything you want to talk about, I’m here.

Karas Dragonman (10/05/52 07:15) It’s been 3 days people are getting worried, please say something just so we know you’re okay.

Karas Dragonman (10/05/52 08:02) Sorry that was rude I didn’t mean to rush you.

That was pretty much what I’d expected. I felt a little pang of guilt though, I kind of knew that people would be worried but there was a difference between knowing and seeing. Still, it wasn’t too bad. Now I’d ripped the bandaid off, I skimmed through the messages from the others.

Heart_Stone (07/05/52 18:38) Luke told us what happened - is that why you weren’t in your Introduction to Philosophy class today? I’ll send over a copy of my notes from back when I took the course, I’ve been told the curriculum hasn’t changed for several years now. Wishing you a speedy recovery! ❤️

Heart_Stone sent a file: IntroPhilsem1wk11.pdf [download]

BigGav sent a file: otterswashingpaws.gif [download]

BigGav sent a file: cat_ears.png [download]

BigGav sent a file: 1mja870dnf767894adj.gif [download]

BigGav sent a file: cat_bath_funny.gif [download]

[message deleted]

BigGav sent a file: burrito.jpg [download]

CASSSSSSSS (11/05/52 23:11) I know everyone’s been crowding you

CASSSSSSSS (11/05/52 23:11) just wanted to say

CASSSSSSSS (11/05/52 23:11) whatever you’re dealing with, take your time

CASSSSSSSS (11/05/52 23:12) don’t let anyone pressure you

CASSSSSSSS (11/05/52 23:12) ESPECIALLY not your friends

CASSSSSSSS (11/05/52 23:12) they mean well but you know how they can get

I stared at the screen for a while, trying to figure out what to say back. Something that was simple and reassuring and didn’t lead to many more questions, but typing these things was so hard. I could never tell how people would respond to something I said when I wasn’t actually saying it to them, in person. Then before I could figure out how to phrase it all, another message popped up, this time from Charity. I felt a faint sense of dread as I checked it.

CDXX Adolebitque Eam (13/05/52 16:45) The sleeping princess awakens at last.

Crap. I still had no idea what I was saying, and now I was on the spot. I could ignore her? But she’d know I was ignoring her, and that’d be worse than saying something awkward. I could… no, there wasn’t any kind of clever solution. At least, nothing that I could come up with quickly enough to avoid a long silence that I’d have to explain later. Like it or not, I had to say something.

That Cat Lady (13/05/52 13:47) I don’t want to talk about it

CDXX Adolebitque Eam (13/05/52 13:47) Then don’t.

That Cat Lady (13/05/52 13:48) Ok.

That Cat Lady (13/05/52 13:56) I just don’t want the others to worry

CDXX Adolebitque Eam (13/05/52 13:57) I can tell them you said that.

That Cat Lady (13/05/52 14:01) Tell them I’m fine

That Cat Lady (13/05/52 14:01) Dealing with personal stuff

That Cat Lady (13/05/52 14:02) But fine

CDXX Adolebitque Eam (13/05/52 14:02) Roger that.

I closed the app and lay back. I felt like I’d just run a hundred miles, but that ended up going better than I’d expected. For the first time in a week, I started to maybe-kinda-almost-sorta relax, a little bit. At least enough to go for a little stroll around the house to burn off some of that nervous energy. My bedroom was nice enough, but not the sort of place you wanted to be stuck in for days at a time, since I hadn’t got around to personalising it much yet. Canary yellow walls with nothing on them but a few cracks if you knew where to look, mismatched furniture, the bed was a single with plain metal bedposts and old sheets, that kind of thing.

Which summed up about three quarters of the house, really. It had sat in that “will be really nice once it gets a few renovations” stage for about as long as I’d been alive, but since it was a big two-storey house, fixing it up always got put off because it would be too much time and money, and now a lot of the little touchups it needed were fixing things that had broken during that time. But there were a few rooms that had been totally overhauled, so they were very modern and swanky and looked totally out of place next to the grotty parts. At least the kitchen was one of the nice bits, and that was the most important room.

Soon that was where my wandering lead me, and to the fridge in particular. Just like the kitchen was probably the most impressive room in the house, the fridge was the nicest part of the kitchen, always kept filled to the brim with carefully organised and fresh ingredients (some of which most people I knew had never even heard of) as well as leftovers. We didn’t mess around when it came to food. Today I was going straight for the shame shelf, right at the bottom where we kept the instant meals and junk food and stuff. I’d seen a box of store bought caramel-and-sprinkles cupcakes there last week, and I knew Dad would never touch them. Sure enough, there they were, so I fished the box out and took a cupcake from it.

Then I put the cupcake back, grabbed the whole box and took it with me back to my room.

Half an hour and seven cupcakes later, I was starting to think that might have been a bad idea. The sugar had helped at first, but now all I could feel was nausea and regret. In hindsight, I probably should have stopped after four, and I definitely should have stopped after five. The sixth and seventh I’d eaten out of pure stubbornness.

Grumbling to myself, I got up and walked across the room to draw the curtains shut and collect my headphones. I’d already been feeling tired, and now I had a food baby that needed to be slept off. But aside from it being broad daylight outside, we had a few people on our street who owned dogs. They weren’t too badly behaved, but still, the last thing I needed right now was to hear them barking at someone while I tried to sleep. That… well. That kind of thing was enough to undo all the progress I’d made today.

With comfortable white noise filling my ears and an extremely full belly, I passed out almost as soon as I hit the bed.

I heard snarling behind me. I tried to run faster, but I was already pushing my body to its limit. I couldn’t hide, I couldn’t escape. The barking grew louder, hungrier. I started to run, but my foot wouldn’t move. I was trapped.

The storm had been building since late last night, and it was in full force now. But it wasn’t rain that was streaming down my face.

Desperately, I scrambled up the tree. The howling was growing closer with every passing second, dozens of them. I couldn’t see them, but they all had the same malevolent looks in their eyes. And the teeth. The teeth went on forever. Jagged, spiky, chopping and sawing, each open maw like a shark’s that went deeper and deeper. If those teeth closed around you, it was all over. Even if it was just a scrape.

For the first hour there’d only been terror, shock, numbness. That had passed. Now I was choking, gasping for air in between sobs. My chest ached, I felt like I might throw up at any second.

I was hidden among the branches so they couldn’t get to me, but they knew where I was. They circled the base of the tree, leaping up to snap at my ankles. No matter how high I climbed, they kept jumping higher and higher. I tried to swat them away, but they just laughed.

There were flashing lights and people everywhere, but none of them cared. None of them were willing to listen. They’d rather ignore the truth, cover it up with lies.

The dog smiled at me with my mother’s eyes. I had nowhere left to run. She opened her mouth wide, and the other mouth inside that one, and I knew what was about to happen. I screamed, not in fear, not in pain, but in fury. It didn’t help. I still heard her words, clear as day.

“Honey, I know how awful this has been for you. I’ve read all about the stress this sort of thing can put a young mind under. But if you want to heal, you have to start by accepting the truth.”

No. I refused. I leapt at the dog, and with both arms I clamped its mouth shut again, holding on for more than just life. I thought I’d won. I was wrong. Even with those horrible jaws trapped shut, her voice was all I could hear.

“It was just a dog.”

She was right. I knew, deep inside, that she was right. I’d been clinging to this fantasy because… why? Because it gave me something to fight against? Or did it, in a weird way, make the world seem more fair and tolerable? Eliza had told me about all that stuff, but I hadn’t wanted to believe her. Mum was right though. I couldn’t move on until I -

Then, light.

I jerked upright, almost throwing my blanket off. Dad was standing in the open doorway, one hand over the light switch, a tray with soup and toast in the other. He was smiling gently, but I knew that was an act - his hair was all jumbled and messed up, which was really easy to see since it was almost as long as mine right now. Dad cared a lot about appearance, and messy hair always meant he was in a lot of stress.

“Sorry,” he said, setting the tray down. “Didn’t know how else to wake you. Dinner’s ready, are you hungry?”

I had no idea. My head was spinning too fast for my stomach to talk to it. But I nodded anyway.

“Dad? Can you give me a lift tomorrow? I want to go in to class.”

“Are you sure? There’s no rush. You don’t have to go back until you’re one hundred percent ready.”

“Um, maybe. Mostly I wanted to see my friends. Then maybe I’ll go to a class too if I’m feeling good?”

His smile became a little more real. “That sounds like a great idea. I’m heading in early tomorrow morning though, so I won’t be able to drop you later than eight.”

“That’s fine.” I sipped at a spoonful of the soup. Tomato and basil, one of my favourites. “Dad? I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He closed the door softly behind himself as he left.

Eight was actually later than I wanted to go in, but that would have been hard to explain. I hadn’t slept at all last night - hadn’t wanted to, hadn’t been able to, hadn’t needed to after my afternoon nap. I still hadn’t physically recovered from the night in the woods, but I took the stairs two at a time anyway, not caring that it hurt. Level three… level four… level five. I stormed down the corridor, took a left, almost collided with a young man wearing his pyjamas, took another left, then went up to the third door along and started hammering on it.

It opened almost instantly. A wide-eyed Luke stared at me, with a full mouth and a bowl of cereal in his hands.

I stared right back at him. “What the hell.”