bloodbound

chapter 3

Arielle Thorne
"you call it being negative, I call it being realistic"

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Sleep came in restless fits, broken by nightmares that hovered on the edge of my consciousness like the fog outside. In my dreams, I was running through the woods, the trees pressing in on all sides, their branches reaching out to ensnare me. Something was behind me—something I couldn't see but could feel, a presence that watched and waited, always just out of reach.

I woke up in the early hours of the morning, my sheets damp with sweat, my heart racing. The house was quiet, save for the soft creak of the old floorboards settling in the cold night air. I lay still for a long moment, staring up at the ceiling, trying to shake the lingering dread from my dreams. But it clung to me, thick and suffocating, like the fog outside.

I glanced at my phone on the nightstand. 3:27 a.m. Too early to be awake, too late to go back to sleep. I rolled over, pulling the blankets tighter around me, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

A soft sound drifted through the room, barely audible—a faint rustling, like leaves brushing against glass.

I sat up, my pulse quickening. The sound came again, this time a little louder. It wasn't the wind. It was too deliberate, too rhythmic, like fingers tapping on a window.

I turned slowly, my eyes locking onto the window across the room. The curtains were still drawn, the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the thin fabric. For a moment, I considered ignoring it, telling myself it was just the house settling or the trees outside shifting in the breeze.

But then the tapping came again—louder, more insistent.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry, and slid out of bed, my bare feet cold against the wooden floor. The room seemed to stretch out around me, the shadows shifting as I moved toward the window.

When I reached the curtains, I hesitated. My hand hovered over the fabric, my breath catching in my throat. I didn't want to look. I didn't want to see what was on the other side.

But I had to know.

With trembling fingers, I pulled the curtains back just enough to peer through the small gap.

At first, I saw nothing but the thick fog, swirling lazily around the trees. The yard was empty, the woods dark and still. I almost let out a breath of relief, but then my eyes caught something—movement at the edge of the trees.

A dark figure, standing just beyond the reach of the light from the house. It was the same figure I had seen before, tall and still, its form barely discernible through the fog. But now, it seemed closer—too close.

I froze, my heart pounding in my chest, and watched as the figure tilted its head, as if it knew I was watching. The tapping sound came again, but this time it wasn't at the window. It was behind me.

I spun around, my back pressed against the window, my eyes wide. The room was empty, but the sound echoed softly in the silence, a rhythmic, deliberate tapping. My heart raced, and I felt a cold sweat break out across my skin.

I backed away from the window, my hands shaking. I didn't know what to do. Part of me wanted to run, to wake Mom and tell her what I had seen, but another part of me—the part that felt like a terrified little girl—knew that she wouldn't believe me. She would tell me it was just the fog, or my imagination, and that everything would be fine.

But I knew better.

I grabbed my phone off the nightstand, the faint glow of the screen offering some small comfort in the darkness, and made my way to the door. I couldn't stay in this room—not with that thing outside.