Chapter Two
"Isn't God going to answer my prayer?! I don't want to die!"
Pain shot through his scraped knees, blood trickling down to stain the dirt. Tears blurred his vision as the monsters loomed closer, their twisted smiles stretching wider.
He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable. This was it. His end had come.
With a single swift movement, they lunged.
But instead of claws tearing into his flesh, he heard a low, menacing growl—so deep it rattled his bones—followed by the sharp rustling of leaves.
Blinking in confusion, Dave's eyes widened. A figure—human in appearance—had stepped into the fray, battling the creatures with impossible strength.
The boy gaped in disbelief. His rescuer looked only a few years older than him, yet the way he fought was nothing like anything human. His body blurred with inhuman speed, each strike precise and merciless. The grotesque beasts were tossed aside like brittle dolls, their shrieks muffled against the hard ground.
Dave sat frozen, his small frame trembling, torn between awe and terror. This was not a sight meant for a child. He should be watching cartoons, not monsters being crushed like vermin.
Tears welled in his eyes again as the battle raged. Then it happened.
The boy's rescuer shifted.
Before Dave's horrified eyes, the figure transformed—no longer human. Fur bristled along his arms, his eyes ignited in a crimson blaze, fangs elongating into razor daggers. Claws ripped through flesh with sickening precision. Each movement was a deadly dance, a storm of violence beneath the eerie glow of the forest night.
For a fleeting moment, their gazes locked. Crimson met wide, tear-filled brown. And in that instant, something flickered in the beast's eyes—softness, almost human, warring with the predator inside.
Then, with a brutal final move, the monster pinned down the last grotesque figure and tore its head clean off.
Silence.
Dave couldn't move. He had seen too much. His body refused to obey as he stared at the horror before him.
The creature turned.
Dave's heart pounded like a trapped bird as it approached, black blood dripping from its claws. Was this it? Had he been spared from one death only to meet another?
The beast's eyes found his again. This time, there was no malice—only something strange, something… almost gentle. As though it knew him.
But before Dave could react, the creature moved. Not with violence, but with impossible speed. A shadow swallowed him whole, and then—
Nothing.
Darkness.
---
Ten Years Later
Dave jolted awake with a strangled gasp, chest rising and falling in quick succession. Sweat clung to his skin, dampening his tousled hair. His trembling hands gripped the sheets as he buried his face in his palms.
Another nightmare.
The dawn light seeped into his room, painting faint shadows across the walls. He sat up, his breaths ragged, his heart refusing to calm.
Nine years had passed since that day, yet the memory clung to him with claws sharper than those monsters. He remembered the fear, the terror of being prey—and the confusion when something even more terrifying saved him.
To this day, he had no name for it. Beast? Demon? Something worse? He didn't know. But one truth haunted him: it had been his savior.
That night changed everything. He never joined another school excursion, never set foot in a forest, never lingered outdoors after dark. People mocked him when he told the story. They said there was no "Pink Tree," no monsters. Just childish imagination. A hallucination from panic.
But Dave knew the truth.
He had seen it with his own eyes. He had seen the beast fight for him.
And the memory never stopped hunting him.
With a sharp exhale, he pushed the thoughts aside. Dwelling on the past wouldn't change it. He had a day to face.
---
One Hour Later
Descending the stairs with quiet grace, Dave entered the dining room where his parents were already waiting. His presence filled the room like soft sunlight—effortless, captivating.
His delicate features were framed by sun-kissed strands of hair, his expressive eyes shadowed by the weight of secrets he could never share. Even the curve of his lips as he greeted them carried both warmth and hidden sorrow.
"Good morning, Dave dear," his mother said fondly, brushing a hand over his neatly combed hair.
"Morning, Mom," he replied with a small smile, leaning into her touch. "How was your night?"
"Wonderful, sweetheart. And yours?"
He hesitated for only a heartbeat, then forced a nod. "Fine."
No need to worry them.
He was their only son, the light of their lives. Their love was boundless, a shield around him. But not even that warmth could protect him from the ghosts that clung to his past.
No one could.