12:34 a.m.
Tuesday
The beast followed his prey by her scent,
until his instincts finally led him to a one-story stone house.
This time, the beast was in his true form,
which meant that the poor boy was about to be torn apart
in the most brutal way imaginable.
But—from the beast's point of view—
the boy deserved it.
He deserved every bit of pain coming his way.
The beast opened the side window of the house
and slipped inside with deadly grace.
As soon as he entered, a disgusting smell hit his nose.
He followed it until he reached one of the rooms.
He slowly opened the door
and saw the boy lying on the bed,
covered in dark red sheets.
The beast growled softly, his voice terrifying.
"I found you…"
He stepped closer, slow and lethal.
His teeth ached with the desire to sink into the boy's bones.
All he wanted was to rip him apart.
He licked his lips hungrily, ready to attack—
Suddenly—
"AAAAAAH!!!"
A horrifying scream shattered the silence of the night.
Flesh… blood… organs… broken bones and body parts
were scattered across the room like ash after a violent explosion.
Screams louder than a dragon's roar,
sounds deeper than the ocean itself.
When the neighbors finally came to check on the boy,
it was already too late.
He was everywhere.
Parts of his face stuck to the pillows,
pieces of his legs on top of the wardrobe,
something that looked like part of his heart on the bed—
and the rest… could no longer be identified.
And yet, in another part of the village,
a young girl slept peacefully,
unaware that her closest friend was dead.
Unaware that the very same monster
was now hiding inside her room.
What awaited her when morning came?
---
The alarm rang.
She reached out and shut it off with a light tap,
then sat up, yawning as she rubbed her sleepy eyes.
She stayed still for a few minutes before getting out of bed,
but suddenly stopped.
"Oh! What's this?"
Her foot had stepped on something soft—like fur.
She frowned in confusion.
She didn't own any pets.
She was saving money to buy a kitten someday, but for now…
There was nothing else living in her house.
"Hm… maybe an animal got inside.
Did I really leave a window open?"
She looked toward the window in her room,
and to her surprise—or slight fear—
it was open.
She placed her hands on her hips, tilted her head, and said,
"I was sure I closed it… well, it's fine.
I'll clean this mess and get ready for work.
I just hope Matt makes it on time today."
She walked to the kitchen and grabbed a broom and dustpan.
While cleaning the fur near her bed,
she noticed some of it was slightly wet.
She ignored it completely, threw it away,
and continued getting ready.
She wore a simple black dress
that showed her shoulders and upper chest,
flowing smoothly down to her knees.
She fixed her hair neatly, slipped into her flat beige shoes,
and grabbed her small crossbody bag.
She left the house quickly and energetically,
walking toward the bakery where she worked,
still unaware of her friend's death,
and of the monster who had left his traces in her room.
As she walked through the village streets,
she noticed a heavy, gloomy atmosphere.
She slowed down nervously
and approached a father holding his two young daughters' hands.
"Excuse me… did something happen last night?"
The man looked at her in surprise, then replied quietly,
"You don't know? Matt was found dead… torn to pieces in his room.
The only explanation is a large animal attack.
I'm very sorry for your loss."
He gave her a sad, sympathetic smile and walked away.
Everyone in the village knew how close they were.
They knew how broken she would be when she heard the news,
and they understood she would need support.
She whispered shakily, barely hearing herself,
"What…?"
The world seemed to stop around her.
How was she supposed to continue her day
after learning her closest friend was gone?
Seeing her pale face and frozen tears,
some villagers rushed toward her.
An elderly woman hugged her gently and said,
"Come here, dear… come here.
You'll get through this pain, I promise.
Why don't you keep the bakery closed today?
Take your time. Rest. Cry as much as you need."
The girl broke down sobbing in her arms.
Across the street stood the man responsible for everything.
He watched silently.
He didn't like seeing her cry over that boy,
but he decided to allow her to grieve—for now.
Later, she would learn the truth as he saw it—
that everything he did had a reason,
and that she would have to accept it, no matter the cost.
He took the opportunity and approached her.
She had just separated from the old woman,
who had work to attend to.
He called her in a warm, gentle voice,
"Lilian."
She turned slowly and saw the man
she had gone to the meadows with the day before.
"Oh… hi, Zachary…"
she said quietly, exhausted.
She didn't feel like talking.
All she wanted was to go home and cry.
He stepped closer and said softly,
"I heard about your friend… I'm truly sorry for your loss.
Why don't we go to your place? I'll take care of you.
You can cry on my shoulder.
We can hold each other until you feel better."
The monster spoke carefully, soothing her.
He knew his voice alone could make her feel safe.
The mate bond was stronger than anyone imagined,
and after today, he would make her believe
that his presence was exactly what she needed.
But the dark truth was—
If it weren't for him…
the boy would still be alive.
---
She took the bowl of soup he made and said softly,
"Thank you, Zachary… I'm really grateful you're here with me."
The soup was made from fresh tomatoes from her large backyard.
He had picked them himself.
He noticed there were no berry bushes and didn't understand why,
but he didn't comment.
After all, if she had grown berries herself,
she wouldn't have needed to go into his forest and meet him.
He sat beside her on the couch.
She leaned into him, searching for warmth and comfort,
as if she would fall apart if she pulled away.
Lilian was usually independent,
not someone who relied on others.
But moments like this made her crave company—
a touch, a voice reminding her she wasn't alone.
With her parents away traveling with her grandmother,
Zachary was all she had.
She took a few sips of soup,
trying to hold back her tears—but failed.
She set the bowl aside
and broke down, crying against his chest.
But what she said next…
He did not like it at all.
In a broken, shaking voice, between sobs, she said:
"I loved him…"
---