She wasn't even given the chance to argue or complain, her mother was called away immediately after dropping the bomb, before she could even finish processing her shock.
Since then, Shannon's mind has been in chaos. Coupled with the complexity and unfamiliarity of their new home.
It was too still. Too quiet.
Even the walls seemed to listen.
Right now she was in her nighties. A cotton shorts, and her threadbare night-shirt.
She was at that window again, staring outside at the dark.
How the trees swerved left and right with the aid of the gentle breeze like silent dancers.
The moon's ethereal glow illuminating steadily on the clusters of brushes far ahead.
It shimmered silver. Mysterious.
'Howl!!!'
Shannon flinched. Caught off guard by the chilling bone deep cry that echoed right straight from the thick bushes ahead.
Surprised, but then amused, she crept closer to her window. So close as if she wanted to be one with it.
Her gaze strained, focusing on the thick trees that appeared to form a little forest.
It didn't just startled her, it clawed through her spine, leaving her frozen.
"No doubt, it came from in there," she whispered to herself. Dark brows furrowing and head titling subtly to the side.
'Howl!!!"
Came the cry again. But this time, she didn't flinch.
Those narrowing brows only shot upwards, as if her thoughts were just confirmed.
Her stomach dropped.
What animal would make such noise? She pondered.
"Definetly not dogs," Shannon shook her head. Remembering old Rufus didn't sound like that, not till he had his last bark.
So dogs wasn't it. Neither were cats.
Her gaze widen as a thought slammed her mind. "Some wild beast?"
Nothing domestic could ever sound like that.
But her mother had assured her that the woods around this district were safe. And that they were no news of the neighbors complaining of an animal attack or something of the likes of it.
Yet still, terror gripped her in a potent vice. The thought of something wild lurking within range sent terror crawling beneath her skin.
That wasn't just a cry…
A call?
Her eyes narrowed, gaze drilling into the shadowy tangle of the forest.
Shannon heaved. Breathing in. And then out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Just as Mrs Meyer had taught her.
As much as she disliked the woman to the bones, she wouldn't deny majority of her methods proved furtile.
A gust of heavy breeze flew past. The clouds becoming thick, looming over pine covered hills, moving ever so slowly, till it completely covered the moon.
Like a blanket smothering light.
Shannon waited. Knowing it would float pass.
The moon would come back. It always did.
However, it did not.
Her forehead drew tight, pulling her brows to the point they almost met. "Strange,"
Underneath her breath, she murmured.
She waited a few more minutes, but the world was still casted in momentary darkness. A starless night.
Exhaustion eating at her. A tired yawn slipped past her lips. Her slender fingers reached out to her mouth.
Her eyes feeling droopy. The green in them darkening in shade.
With a sigh of forfeit, Shannon spun on her heels and headed straight to bed.
Draping the covers atop her exposed legs.
No. She didn't bother switching off the lamp by her bedside, rather, she adjusted the switch, making the light shine brighter, pushing shadows into corners—but, they lingered.
And in less than minutes, her breathing evened out. Soft and smooth. Indicating a smooth sail to dreamland…she wished.
***
Hours into the night.
The moon that once casted a silvery glow, now bled red upon the earth. Painting it in sins and secrets.
The clouds that was once hesitant to leave its premise, now shied away from it as though frightened.
Everything was on standstill. It was windy, yet the trees didn't move a branch. Neither could the leave rustle as it normally should.
And she was running.
Heavy footfalls and rapid breathing resonated.
Familiar noises. Familiar pants. Everything felt too real. Like she was a soul being trapped, yet stripped of its freewill.
Barefeet smacking against the rough ground, slicing open by thorns and sharp stones.
She was running from what? She couldn't tell. Yet all her instincts screamed for her was to get away. As far as possible!
She knew. She knew something horrible hovered behind her.
She could feel it.
She didn't know what it was, but she only knew that it wanted her. All of her.
Growling! Something primal and hungry.
Not just an ordinary hunger. Not just hunger for flesh and bones.
No! Hunger for her soul.
So she kept running. Blood thrumming inside her veins, heart pounding within her chest. Her pants getting louder, and shorter. And more out of breath.
Feet leaving bloody prints in dirt.
She was choking on fear.
But she didn't stop, she pushed on.
At this point her lungs were burning, begging for air.
The trees clawed at her skin, leaving marks and thin stripes of red scratches.
Her feet bled. Her gasps ragged.
And then, suddenly, the moon rose above her. Higher. So unnaturally fast.
And then she gasped! Bolting up from the mattress with inhumane speed.
Her face splattered with spots of sweats, hair sticking to the sides of her face.
Her sheets were drenched in her sweat. The room freezing.
Her palms squeezing tight to the quilt. Knuckles pale.
Eyes wide and glazed. Her lips hung open as she breathed, as if still struggling with the aftermath of depriving her lungs the oxygen it so desperately needed in the woods.
She heaved. Her pants filling the dull silence of the dimly lit room.
"It was just a dream."
"It was just a dream."
She chanted to herself over and over again in calm whispers until she believed it.
"It was just a dream."
"It was just a dream."
Her breathing seemed to calm. Her heart obeyed her voice.
"Power," Mrs Meyer had always told her.
The woman's words returning to her in her shrill, unkind voice. "Is different from control."
"And you, My dear. Need to wield power over your mind. Not control."
She did as she had been told.
Her body stopped its quivering.
Only then did she see them.
Three deep claw marks across the wooden floorboard. Dangerously close to her bed.
Her breath clogged in her throat.
Wide eyed, she stared. The edges were splintered and raw.
They hadn't been there when she moved in, neither were they before she went to sleep.
Could it be that her mother was wrong?
That instead of this place to aid in her recovery, it might be the final piece to lure her over the edge of insanity?
Or something far worse!