When I slipped in and out of consciousness, he was still there. When I stopped shivering, he adjusted himself closer. And when the morning light finally began to creep into the room and my breathing turned shallow enough that even he could sense the change, something in him shifted.
He stood up, stared straight at me, and made a decision.
Then he ran. Later, I would learn what happened next, but in that moment all I knew was that the silence had been broken. Somewhere beyond the fog of pain and darkness, there was sound—loud, desperate, relentless.
A scream.
Not human.
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