I stood frozen in the yard for what seemed like eternity, holding that piece of fabric. Could Brett have been taken by the wolves? I couldn't shake the image of Brett being dragged away by those beasts. I went back in the house and texted his cell. “Hey, u home? Where'd u go this morn?” I closed my phone and placed it on the table. The clock said it was only 7:00pm so I made a sandwich, mom had finally gone shopping, and sat in the kitchen listening to the wind howl. I was enjoying the peace, when my phone rang. I jumped off the chair I was seated on and ran to the living room. I scooped up my phone and answered it. “Hello?” I waited for a response, but all I could hear was someone breathing. “Is someone there?” More breathing. I was starting to get scared now, there were goosebumps appearing on my arms. I was about to hang up when I heard a long wolf howl. “Oh my gosh!” I dropped the phone; realizing how childish I was being, I regained my cool and stooped to pick up my phone. I checked to see if that person was still there, but all I could hear was a dial tone. Pocketing my phone, I made sure the front door was locked before settling down on the couch and watching a little TV.
I woke up four hours later with a pounding headache. I walked to the bathroom to get some painkillers, when I got an odd feeling. Almost like I wasn't alone. I shrugged it off and grabbed a glass from the counter and filled it with water. I took the painkiller, and returned to the living room to turn off the TV. The feeling was back. I glanced over at the door and saw it was unlocked. Panicking a little, I locked it again. Maybe it was my mom. Maybe she had come home early and forgotten to lock the door. Ya, that must be it. I started to head upstairs to my room, when it started to rain outside. It was coming down really hard. I arrived at my room, and went to bed. I had fallen into a light sleep when there was a crash from downstairs. Bolting upright, I slowly climbed out of my bed. I grabbed a baseball bat from beside my door and made my way to the head of the stairs. “Who’s down there?” I asked. The bat was slung over my shoulder, ready to strike. Who ever was down there froze. I debated whether to continue down the stairs or stay up here. I decided to take my chances downstairs. Walking down a few stairs, I couldn't see the intruder, so I went down a few more. The coffee table was in the middle of the floor, as if someone had kicked it. I descended the rest of the stairs and ran my hand across the wall, trying to find the light-switch. I found it and flipped on the switch. At first glance, there didn't seem to be anything else wrong with the room. I put the table back in it's place and noticed something was on it. Kneeling down, I took a closer look. I didn't know what it was. I put my hand on it, it was warm and moist. I brought my hand closer to me. It was red and liquid... it was blood. I gasped and back away from the table. Wiping my hand on my shorts, I stood up and looked around the room again. The door was still locked, and everything else was in its place. I walked to the kitchen, still clutching the bat and turned the lights on. Nothing. I let out a long breath and went to wash my hand in the sink. The remaining blood had dried, it was really gross. I was drying my hand with the dish towel, when I heard a noise. It was quiet, but I still heard it. Something like a gasp of pain. I put the towel down, picked up the baseball bat and followed the noise. It was coming from the bathroom. I inched my way down the hall until I was facing the door. I got ready with my bat and slowly turned the handle of the door. It was covered in blood, the same blood that was on the table. How did I know that? I shook the thought from my head and through the door open. I raised the bat, ready to strike. “Julie!” I lowered my bat and looked down at the tiled floor. There was blood on the floor, and in the sink; it had a strong rusty smell. I took a quick look around the small bathroom, before my gaze rested on the bloodied mess of the caller of my name.
I woke up four hours later with a pounding headache. I walked to the bathroom to get some painkillers, when I got an odd feeling. Almost like I wasn't alone. I shrugged it off and grabbed a glass from the counter and filled it with water. I took the painkiller, and returned to the living room to turn off the TV. The feeling was back. I glanced over at the door and saw it was unlocked. Panicking a little, I locked it again. Maybe it was my mom. Maybe she had come home early and forgotten to lock the door. Ya, that must be it. I started to head upstairs to my room, when it started to rain outside. It was coming down really hard. I arrived at my room, and went to bed. I had fallen into a light sleep when there was a crash from downstairs. Bolting upright, I slowly climbed out of my bed. I grabbed a baseball bat from beside my door and made my way to the head of the stairs. “Who’s down there?” I asked. The bat was slung over my shoulder, ready to strike. Who ever was down there froze. I debated whether to continue down the stairs or stay up here. I decided to take my chances downstairs. Walking down a few stairs, I couldn't see the intruder, so I went down a few more. The coffee table was in the middle of the floor, as if someone had kicked it. I descended the rest of the stairs and ran my hand across the wall, trying to find the light-switch. I found it and flipped on the switch. At first glance, there didn't seem to be anything else wrong with the room. I put the table back in it's place and noticed something was on it. Kneeling down, I took a closer look. I didn't know what it was. I put my hand on it, it was warm and moist. I brought my hand closer to me. It was red and liquid... it was blood. I gasped and back away from the table. Wiping my hand on my shorts, I stood up and looked around the room again. The door was still locked, and everything else was in its place. I walked to the kitchen, still clutching the bat and turned the lights on. Nothing. I let out a long breath and went to wash my hand in the sink. The remaining blood had dried, it was really gross. I was drying my hand with the dish towel, when I heard a noise. It was quiet, but I still heard it. Something like a gasp of pain. I put the towel down, picked up the baseball bat and followed the noise. It was coming from the bathroom. I inched my way down the hall until I was facing the door. I got ready with my bat and slowly turned the handle of the door. It was covered in blood, the same blood that was on the table. How did I know that? I shook the thought from my head and through the door open. I raised the bat, ready to strike. “Julie!” I lowered my bat and looked down at the tiled floor. There was blood on the floor, and in the sink; it had a strong rusty smell. I took a quick look around the small bathroom, before my gaze rested on the bloodied mess of the caller of my name.