KATELYN POV

"Katelyn," I heard someone call. I jumped to my feet in surprise, and spun around to find myself face to face with one of the boys from lunch. Paul, the stupid one. I remembered.

Boy didn't seem like the right word though, for there was nothing boyish about him.

He was a giant, 6' 5" at least, but not fat at all. Instead, his body was lean and toned, with muscles rippling across his chest and arms. I suppose most girls would call him good-looking, but I stopped noticing things like that three years ago. You become immune to judgment once you've had bruises across you're face for that long of a time.

His skin was russet coloured, contrasting greatly with his cropped, silky, black hair. His eyes were mysterious. Large and framed with thick, dark lashes, it was easy to lose yourself in the bottomless blue pools.

I noticed the worry lines wrinkling his forehead, and I softened my offensive stance.

Not his fault, either. My fault. My fault.

"Paul, right?" I called to him. A faint smile appeared on his face as he answered, "Yes."

"What are you doing here?" I inquired. I couldn't completely erase the defensiveness from my tone. No matter how little he deserved it, I still felt intense dislike when I remembered the events at lunch. People should just mind their own business.

"Looking for you, I... saw... you leave and go in this direction, and thought I'd follow you. It took me awhile to find you in this forest, otherwise I'd been here sooner. Are you alright?" I didn't understand his hesitancy to answer my question, but accepted the response anyways. As for his question, I decided to ignore it.

"Well I'm just leaving anyways," I said. It was true enough. I had to be home before dinner, and it must be getting close.

I shuddered slightly, thinking of the night I would have to spend. I was surprised when Paul seemed to notice, I hadn't thought it was visible.

He stepped forward, his hand slightly outstretched to me.

"You were crying," he stated quietly. It wasn't phrased as a question.

My shoulders stiffened, and I stood up to my full height.

"No," I said coldly, "I wasn't. The wind was in my eyes. I'm fine. I don't need you, or anyone else's help."

I stepped around him (he had gotten very close while I was speaking) and crossed the small meadow, walking back into the trees.

I continued along the path I had come in for five minutes, thinking I was alone. I jumped involuntarily when Paul spoke again and scowled knowing how weak I must seem to him. I hadn't realized he was with me. How can he walk so quietly and yet be so big?

"It's okay, you know. To show weakness sometimes," he said quietly.

I stopped walking, my fury making me see red. I didn't want him to know he'd hit a nerve. Who was he to tell me I was weak? He didn't know anything about weakness. He didn't know I cried and screamed every night. He didn't have to go through that.

I closed my eyes and counted to ten, slowly breathing in and out. After, I continued walking as if he hadn't spoken.

"I'm sorry," he offered.

You should be, I thought to myself.

"So, do you want to talk about what happened at lunch?"

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"Okay."

We walked in silence until the forest broke. In my peripheral vision, I saw him staring at me intently.

There was something different in his eyes. Something I had rarely seen in my life, except for on TV.

It confused me. What's interesting about me? I asked myself over and over again. I'm nothing special, I get told every night.

We continued like that for another 10 minutes or so, I wasn't sure exactly, I didn't have a watch on. But finally, we broke through the edge and I caught sight of my backpack and coat on the ground.

I glanced at the sky, and froze.

Instead of it seeing the usual light grey, blue I expected, I faced a dark sky with the last traces of a beautiful sunset disappearing over the edge of the world.

My mind blanked and for a moment, I could only stare in horror at the sight that would certainly mean a very bad night, before panic and adrenaline spurred my legs into action.

I sprinted over to my scattered belongings. Once they were securely in my arms, I began my fast-but-not-fast-enough trek to my hopefully empty house. Only after I was a good 25 feet away, did I hear Paul's worried voice speaking.

"Katelyn? Katelyn what are you doing? KATELYN! Hello is anyone home?"

I spun around, "Just go away Paul! You've done enough damage today."

I didn't spare a thought for his white, shocked face. I couldn't. I needed to get to the house. I needed to get there. I left the giant man behind, as I continued my frantic journey.

The sun seemed to be moving twice as fast as usual. With every step I took, a little more light escaped the sky, and my hands trembled a little more violently.

Just a football field length away from the familiar house, the final rays disappeared. I let loose a strangled cry, and redoubled my pace, hoping with everything I had left that Dad had been held up at whatever business he had to do today.

My prayers were fruitless. Only 5 feet from the door I tripped over a loose tree branch and fell sprawling on the ground, my books scattering. When I looked up, I saw that the door had opened and his short, stout figure was standing in the doorway, dimly illuminated by the moon's faint beams.

His eyes, so similar to mine, were cold, masking a hard, terrifying fury. His face however, was eerily calm.

"There you are Katelyn," he said, "I was getting so worried about you, come in, it's freezing outside."

Was it? I wondered. If it was, I couldn't tell. All I could feel was cold dread seeping around the ribcage that trapped my pounding heart.

I stepped into the house, not making eye contact with my dad; I was ashamed. Ashamed that I had lost track of time. Ashamed that I had spoiled however good of a mood he had been in before I was late.

"I've prepared some dinner for us, Katelyn," he said, still with that unnaturally calm composition. My brain told me I should probably respond, but my throat closed up. I doubt I could speak, if I tried.

I followed my father into the kitchen, where a tiny table with two chairs had been set up.

"Sit down," he ordered.

I swallowed hard, and perched on the end of the chair closest to the door, my eyes on the table.

I could hear him open the fridge, and through the cupboards and finally he placed a plate on the placemat in front of me.

I held back a grimace as I looked at what was meant to be my dinner. It wasn't like I hadn't known that he would do something like this. I was more afraid what he would do if I didn't eat it.

"Well?" he asked. I didn't have to look to know that he was smiling his sick smile.

I picked up my fork and knife with trembling hands, and began to cut the raw slab of meat. Juices squirted everywhere as my right hand continued the hypnotic sawing motion. Bile rose up in my mouth, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered if you could die from eating raw meat.

Stabbing the tiny piece with my fork, I delicately placed it between my front teeth and chewed slowly, as if sampling something from a fancy restaurant.

The meat slimed its way down my throat, and this time I cringed outwardly as my stomach churned, rejecting the substance. It was revolting.

Feeling my dad's eyes on the back of my neck, I began to cut another piece. I put it to my mouth, chewed, swallowed, I cut another one. I cut and swallowed until there was only one piece left.

Forcing down vomit, I shoved the meat into my mouth. I was still chewing when my stomach gave a sudden, violent lurch. I gagged, and everything I had worked so hard to eat was reversed, emptying out in projectile spurts.

When everything stopped, I clutched my stomach, tears streaming down my face. Distantly I heard my father yelling.

"Bitch, can't even finish the dinner I MADE FOR HER!" And then I was flying through the air.

I hit the wall and crumpled to the floor, unconsciousness a temporary escape.

A couple hours later I woke to an empty house. Using the last bit of strength I had, I dragged myself up the stairs to my sheet-bed. I drifted off into a restless sleep, pictures of giant men flickering under my eyelids.