They were best friends for years, sharing every secret except one. When Felix finally confesses his feelings, Josephine lets him down with a gentle lie: she's not interested in men. Heartbroken but determined to keep their friendship, Felix tries to...
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The early morning fog had settled over the fields when Josephine's family took her to her uncle's farm for the first time. She was only nine, small and wide-eyed, clutching a worn-out stuffed unicorn with both hands as she wandered through the damp grass. The farm was sprawling and alive, its open fields dotted with horses, chickens, and a handful of cows ambling near the fence line. But her attention was drawn to the fenced-off area on the far side of the property—a place her mother had warned her not to go near.
Curiosity was her strongest trait. As her parents busied themselves inside with her uncle, Josephine ventured off, slipping through the fence and onto the forbidden side of the farm. She moved carefully, quietly, hoping to catch a glimpse of the animal she'd overheard her uncle mention—a guard dog, a fierce creature trained to protect the property.
She hadn't gone far before she spotted it: a large, dark-furred dog with eyes like amber, pacing behind the fence, its gaze sharp and focused. She stopped, her breath catching as she took in its sleek coat and powerful build. In her child's mind, the dog was like a magical creature, wild and mysterious, calling to her.
She inched closer, her small fingers gripping the fence as she leaned in. The dog sniffed the air, its ears perking up. For a brief, exhilarating moment, she thought they understood each other. She reached her hand through the fence, her fingers trembling with a mixture of fear and fascination.
But the instant she moved closer, the dog lunged, its teeth snapping just as she yanked her hand back. Pain exploded in her wrist as she stumbled back, her tiny hand clamped over the bleeding bite marks. The world seemed to spin, her vision blurring as she tried to process what had happened. The dog barked furiously, a low growl rumbling through its chest, and she scrambled back, tears spilling down her cheeks as fear took hold of her.
Her parents found her minutes later, clutching her arm, her face pale as she tried to explain through sobs what had happened. Her mother's horrified expression was seared into her memory as they wrapped her hand in a makeshift bandage, whisking her off to the hospital. The bite wasn't deep, but it left scars—tiny, almost unnoticeable marks that she still traced whenever she felt nervous, as if the pain still lingered somewhere beneath her skin.
Even now, years later, the memory haunted her, the feeling of sharp teeth sinking into her flesh, the primal terror that followed. She'd learned to keep her distance from animals after that, wary of the way they seemed to sense her fear. The scars had faded, but the memory was indelible, a dark reminder that sometimes curiosity brought danger too close.
The dream left her shaken. She woke up with a jolt, her hand instinctively moving to her wrist, feeling the faint outline of the old scars. The nightmare had been so vivid, pulling her back into that moment, making her relive the pain and panic of that day. She sat up, her breath ragged, fingers tracing the faint marks as if reassuring herself that she was safe now.
Her room was a blur, the early morning light filtering softly through her blinds. She clutched her head, the dull throb of a hangover adding to the disorienting fog of her memories. "Another stupid nightmare," she muttered, trying to catch her breath. She pressed her fingertips against her temples, attempting to alleviate the relentless pounding in her head. She looked around and realized she was in her bed, "Felix must of put me here after he drove me last night.."
