New Story Part 1

My heart is racing as the fear pounds through my veins like war drums. Where are you? It’s a horrible night out the negative energy is resonating through the ground. Everything is hiding, there’s no sign of life within ten blocks. My breathing quickens and my hand grasps the knife in my sleeve tighter as I approach the end of the street. Nothing, I look to the left and the right, I look down the street in front of me and still nothing. There’s no sign of you anywhere, I hear a crunch of a single leaf to my back right. Something’s there, I take a careful step to my left, and another, and another. The crunches synchronize with my steps, my heart jumps. I smell something musty and rank, fowl breath and old rain washed mud; like a stray dog. I turn to run as something behind me lunges; I fall.

The blackness lightens to grey and I open my eyes. I’m laying on the futon with my roommate Soda standing over me, “what the hell happened to me?”
“You tell me,” said Soda,
“I get up for work and find you passed out in the front yard bleeding all over the place.”

Bleeding? I try to focus and find the pain that comes with blood; a knife stabs the back of my head. “Oww,” I groan,
“My fucking head is killing me, is it cracked?”
Soda looks at me confused, “no man, your head is fine. I was more concerned with the teeth marks on your shoulder. That’s a nasty gash.”

I look down to see what he’s talking about and once again pain shoots through the back of my head. I gasp at the pain and then again at the enormous jaw shaped bruising around the extensive puncture wounds. “Fuck me sideways,” I yell,
“What the fuck did I do? I don’t remember this happening! The fuckin’ thing doesn’t even hurt!”

My horrified expression worries him even more, “man, are you trying to tell me you can’t feel that?”
“I seriously cannot feel that! Poke it, find out!” I cried.
I demonstrate by jabbing my finger into the wound, “why can’t I bloody well feel that?!”
Wiping the blood or Sodas’ jeans I stand up, “woah! What the fuck boy!” he yells.
“What?” I snap back at him.
“I didn’t even see you stand up and th-then you were there!” the wide-eyed Soda explains.
Very confused at this point I try to walk more slowly to the bathroom so as not to ask him again. Cautiously, I take out the pro-wrap and ointment and turn to the bathroom sink. Filling it up with water I look up into the mirror and gasp, stumbling backward.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Soda yells from the other room.
“F-fine…” I yell back.
Looking into the mirror again I stare at my eyes; bright gold stares back at me rather than my usual green. I glance down at the wound to assess it and my gold eyes go wide. The gaping, gouged wound has all but disappeared. All that’s left of it is a light scar. Everything falls from my hands to the tiled bathroom floor.