Running Red: Lost Moon

Chapter 3: Wake Up

Laik Draven tripped his way through the front door of his grandpa's house. His shoes thumped against the wall before falling to the hardwood of the entranceway. He pulled his hoodie off, almost taking his shirt with it and baring his too skinny warm terra-cotta torso and the faint freckles that could be seen in the brighter sunlight. Tugging his shirt back down, he hung the hoodie on a hook on the wall with the other coats. His fingers pushed dark brown chin-length hair back out of his face. The wooden stairs creaked as he climbed them, letting the whole house know he's home and heading to bed. His aunt ran him into the ground just like he asked. Laik was hoping that he could finally get a whole night's sleep since he was tired enough. During the last week, he was only getting snatches of sleep. He was at the point where he was afraid to fall asleep somewhere where the children played, in case he had a nightmare. He had to keep it together. Everyone was watching him.

Laik shuffled into his room and closed the door. The lock clicked into place with a twist of his hand. He shuffled out of his pants and tugged on sweatpants before flopping onto the bed. Reaching down, he grabbed a handmade woven blanket that had fallen off the bed. He pulled it up, wrapped the blanket around himself, made sure it was tight around his shoulders, and pressed his face against it. He could still faintly smell his birth home in the fibers. It wouldn't be long before the next blanket shows up in the mail. He wasn't ready to talk to his mom. It still hurt. He could tell her to stop, but she would still send them, knowing full well he would still use them.

His eyes closed as he let his fingers run through the strings on the edge of the blanket. 'I'm sorry.' Laik shivered at the memory and frowned before pulling his blanket up over his head. He jumped when hands grabbed his shoulders and yanked him up. His eyes snapped open to find a heavily shadowed man standing over him. When the man grew closer, he found himself face to face with a heavily scarred face from his past.

'Scream'

He let out a wheeze and shoved his foot against the man's chest. He scrambled away, crashing to the snowy ground. His legs were caught by large hands, and he struggled harder.

Laik shoved himself forward and felt his claws dig into the snow-covered ground as he pulled himself away from the scarred man.

"Laik. It's okay."

He shouldn't be here.

"What's going on?"

The man was dead.

"He kicked the blanket off."

Why was he here?

Wasn't he in his room!?

"We'll talk later. Make sure Skye stays downstairs."

A wheeze slipped out, and he managed to kick his feet free of the hands. He won't scream. Where was Ryder? Where? His amber and blue eyes wildly looked around for his best friend. Where? His eyes landed on a vaguely human shape, blood seeping out around the body onto the cold, snowy ground, and he froze.

"Laik!" He watched as the snow melted at the sound of his name. "Focus, Laik." The cold chill left his body, and he blinked, finding himself in his room. That was right. He sagged against the ground. He was safe. Safe.

He closed his eyes and let out a long exhale. When he opened them, the human shape was a pile of dirty clothes. Lifting his head up, he found his grandpa kneeling next to him. Short graying russet hair was dripping water. "Laik?" A hand reached out to press against his shoulder. The hand was a pale golden tan and covered in faint pale brown freckles and so much different than his. He looked around his room. "Easy."

Laik caught sight of his blanket on the floor, part of it still wrapped around his leg. He was most definitely on the ground. He remembered the dream and looked at his grandpa with wide eyes. "Who did I kick!?"