Kenneth stood in his dimly lit bedroom, his mind still reeling from the night before. His clothes were torn, caked with dirt and dried blood, but his injuries—though they should have been severe—were nothing more than dull aches. He pressed a hand to his shoulder, expecting searing pain, but it was as if the wound had already begun to heal at an unnatural pace.
Something was wrong with him.
He stared at himself in the mirror. His face looked the same—same dark eyes, same messy black hair—but he felt different. There was a heat beneath his skin, a tension in his muscles, like a coiled spring waiting to snap. He could still remember running home, the speed of it, the way the world blurred around him as if he were moving faster than his body should allow. It wasn't just speed. His senses had sharpened—the night had felt alive with sound, the scent of the earth richer than he'd ever noticed before.
Kenneth shook his head, trying to shove the thoughts away. Right now, his biggest concern was Frank. He hadn't heard from him since last night.
Grabbing his phone, he dialed Frank's number. It rang once, twice, three times before going to voicemail.
Kenneth cursed under his breath.
The police had shown up in the woods right before he blacked out. Had they taken Frank in for questioning? Or worse—had something happened to him? Kenneth felt an unfamiliar surge of aggression rise in his chest, a need to *do something*. He clenched his fists, breathing deeply until the feeling subsided.
No. He needed answers first. And there was only one place to get them.
---
The police station was busier than usual when Kenneth arrived. Officers moved in and out, their voices blending into a steady hum of activity. Kenneth hesitated outside, scanning the area. He had no plan—he just knew he had to find Frank.
As he stepped through the doors, the sharp scent of coffee and paper filled his nose. The front desk officer barely glanced at him. Kenneth made his way toward the back, past rows of desks, his eyes searching for any sign of his friend.
Then he spotted him.
Frank was sitting across from his father, Police Chief Jordan Reyes. The older man had his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Frank, on the other hand, looked exhausted. His hoodie was wrinkled, and there was a faint cut on his cheek.
Kenneth moved closer, trying to hear their conversation.
"I told you, Dad," Frank said, his voice low but firm. "I went alone."
Jordan sighed, rubbing his temples. "You're lying to me, son."
Frank didn't respond.
Jordan leaned forward. "The search team found blood. More than just yours. And footprints—two sets. One of them was yours. The other…" He paused, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "It wasn't human."
Kenneth's breath caught in his throat.
Frank tensed. "And?"
"And," Jordan continued, "I don't know what you saw out there, but whatever it was—it's dangerous. People are already talking. This isn't just another animal attack, is it?"
Frank shook his head. "No, it's not."
A silence settled between them, heavy with unspoken words. Kenneth knew he had to get Frank out of there before he said too much. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward.
"Chief Reyes," he said, keeping his voice steady.
Both men turned. Frank's eyes widened slightly, but he masked it quickly.
"Kenneth?" Jordan narrowed his eyes. "You look like hell."
Kenneth forced a grin. "Rough night."
Jordan studied him for a moment before exhaling. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about what my son was doing last night, would you?"
Kenneth met Frank's gaze briefly before shaking his head. "No idea."
Jordan didn't look convinced, but he didn't press. "Fine. But if you *do* know something, now's the time to say it."
Kenneth stayed silent.
With a sigh, Jordan leaned back. "Frank, go home. And stay out of trouble."
Frank stood, nodding once before heading toward the exit. Kenneth followed.
---
Outside, the cool afternoon air was a relief against Kenneth's skin. He turned to Frank as soon as they were clear of the station. "What the hell happened to you?"
Frank rubbed his face. "They brought me in this morning. My dad's been grilling me for hours."
"And you didn't tell him anything?"
Frank scoffed. "Of course not. But he knows something's up. And so do you." His eyes darkened. "Kenneth, I saw you in the woods."
Kenneth stiffened. "What do you mean?"
Frank hesitated. "After you blacked out, the thing that attacked us…it stopped. It looked at you like it *recognized* you. Then it just ran off."
Kenneth's heartbeat quickened. "That doesn't make sense."
Frank exhaled sharply. "None of this makes sense! You should be in the hospital right now, but here you are, walking around like nothing happened."
Kenneth swallowed, the uneasy feeling from earlier returning. "I don't know what's happening to me."
Frank studied him for a long moment before nodding. "Then we better find out."
Kenneth exhaled slowly, knowing that whatever had started in the woods last night—it wasn't over.
---
That night, Kenneth couldn't sleep. His body ached with energy, restless and on edge. He kept hearing sounds outside—too soft for a normal person to notice, but to him, they were loud. A heartbeat. The rustle of grass. The whisper of wind through leaves.
And then—footsteps.
Kenneth shot up, eyes locking onto his window. A shadow moved outside. He moved before thinking, his body reacting on instinct. In seconds, he was at his door, slipping out into the night. The cold air hit him, but he barely noticed.
There, standing at the edge of his yard, was a figure. It was taller than a man, its body partially concealed by the darkness. But its eyes—glowing, familiar—locked onto Kenneth's.
Then, it turned and ran.
Kenneth didn't hesitate. He chased after it, his body moving faster than he had ever thought possible. The night blurred around him as he sprinted into the trees. Whatever had attacked them in the woods—it was back.
And this time, Kenneth was ready to face it.
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