Roslyn

Doctors and nurses have been in and out of my hospital room all day preparing me to leave. I am just grateful that I get to go home so soon.

I just need to get out of here.

The doctors have all told me repeatedly, drilling it into me, that I got extremely lucky. The attack the other night only left me with a bad concussion and some deep cuts on my body. They say it could have been much worse.

I wasn't left with any fatal wounds. It was kind of miraculous actually.

Everyone who came in here over these last few days and took a look at me said the same thing: they have no idea what could have caused these wounds on me.

They know it was most likely an animal but which animal? That is the part no one can agree on. The police came in to file a report but I was no help to them, neither were the doctors. Everyone is still as clueless as when the investigation started.

The doctors were all shocked with my story. My mom filled in most of the blanks and we were able to piece together a story of what likely happened to me out in the woods.

My parents frantically called Anthony that night when I failed to be home by my curfew. Once they found out he had not seen me for at least an hour, they realized I was missing. My mom said as soon as they hung up the phone, they went out looking for me.

My dad said they found me in the woods, unconscious, not too far from my house. They called the police and I have been in this hospital bed ever since.

An investigation surrounding my attack was opened by the police. I was just one of many in this town who had been attacked by some wild animal out in those woods. Only, my attack was  very different from all the rest.

Each of the cases before me ended in the deaths of the victims. I was the first to survive my attack by this so-called-beast.

The police hoped this would mean I could help them solve these deaths and get to the bottom of what happened. Seven murders have been committed so far and police are still no closer to finding out who, or what, did this to these poor people in the woods.

I only disappointed them and myself when I revealed that I didn't remember a single thing that happened to me. They brought in specialists and tried to use methods like hypnosis to get me to remember details like what it looked like or how it felt but nothing worked.

I can't remember anything.

I remembered being attacked. I remember running away from it and being scared to death when it knocked me down and lunged at my face. I remember being terrified. I remember thinking I was going to die.

After that, it is all just a blur. I can't remember anything. It just went black. I remember what was probably a split second of the attack, nothing more.

The police tell me that something must have scared it away. Why else would it leave me half-dead, lying on the mud? They wonder if someone else was there and spooked the creature, saving my life.

I have no idea if someone else was there. Like I said, I don't remember.

My mom walks back into the room after signing all of the necessary paperwork to get me out of here. "Are you ready to go?" She asks with pep in her voice to mask the extreme fatigue she is feeling.  I nod. I am ready.

My mom has no doubt been my warrior these last few days. She has been with me nonstop, supporting me and making sure I was never alone during my recovery.

When visiting hours were over, she left quietly and without a fight, like she was told but she always came back first thing in the morning and stayed with me every minute until they are over again. The cycle repeated each day I was stuck in here.

I walk through the bright hospital with my mom. I can't wait to get home. I just want to sleep in my bed. It would also be nice to take a shower. I feel disgusting. I haven't cleaned myself since entering the hospital and I can feel the layers of dirt and sweat piled on my skin.

Once in the car, I stare out the window when my mom starts driving.  All the words she is speaking become background noise as we drive past a stretch of land with nothing but trees. It reminds me of the attack.

I remember being terrified. I thought it was going to kill me. The way it growled made the hair on the back of my neck stand up straight with fear.

I remember hearing nothing until a branch cracked behind me. I knew it was following me. I took off running. I ran as fast as I could but I was not fast enough. It was so much faster than me.

Turning into my neighborhood, I lock my eyes onto my house. I am almost home. Just past my house, there is a fluster of activity. Something is happening at the house next to me.

We pull into my driveway.

I stare at the scene next to me. It looks like I am getting some new neighbors. My mom and I get out of the car and I still cannot take my eyes off of the family moving boxes out of a large moving van next door.

That house has been vacant for years. Mrs. Figgins and her husband were killed there over five years ago and no one wanted to move in after that. Me and a few kids from school used to ghost hunt in there. We would bring our younger siblings and neighbors around and we would scare them by making them believe that the ghosts still lived in there.

It is weird to see someone over there now.

"That's the new family. They bought the house a few days ago. The kids are starting high school with you on Monday. The son is a senior like you and both daughters are freshman." My mom grabs my arms and peers over my shoulder when she notices I am staring.

"How do you know all that?" I ask, turning away when one of them makes eye contact with me. Now they know we are staring at them.

"I stopped over for a chat yesterday. I invited them all over for dinner tomorrow night." She replies as we walk inside the house.

AN: if any of you were wondering, Roslyn is pronounced like this: Roz•Lin