**The Last Girl**

Lily was exhausted and her clothing were ripped and bloody as she stood at the edge of the trees. She couldn't feel the warmth of the first light peeking over the horizon, even though the sky was painted with the gentle hues of dawn. She experienced only a dull, bone-chilling feeling that persisted long after the threat had subsided.

She was not dead. Despite all the odds, she had managed to survive.

The previous night had been a haze of violence and dread. The monster had been picking off her friends one by one, dragging them into the shadows with terrifying silence and speed. She was next, as every cry had reverberated throughout the forest. Lily, though, had not yelled. She had battled, scuttling through the shadows, deftly maneuvering around the creature at every angle. To stay one step ahead, she had used every ounce of strength and trick her imagination could produce. And now she was alone, standing here at the edge of the forest.

The last Girl.

With wobbly and heavy legs beneath her, she staggered forward. Ahead, through the mist of early dawn, the rooftops of the town were just barely visible. The faint sound of voices, the hum of faraway traffic, the normalcy of a world that had no idea what she had just gone through, was already becoming apparent to her.

A automobile drew up next to her as she got closer to the town. It was a tall, broad-shouldered man with graying hair and a worn-out face who was Sheriff Harlow. He'd watched Lily grow up in this quaint small village since she was a tiny child. However, when he got out of the car and gave her a closer look, he noticed something.

"Lily," he whispered softly as he approached her. "I'm glad you're still here. We felt anxious and ill. What took place outside?

She attempted to talk, searching for the right words to describe the nightmare she had just experienced, but nothing came out. The weight of all she had seen and done was buried in her voice, causing her throat to feel raw.

As he led her to the car, Sheriff Harlow's demeanor softened and he reached out to touch her shoulder. It's alright, he remarked. "It's not necessary for you to discuss it right now. Come with me to the station. We'll get you some assistance and call your parents.

Numbly nodding, Lily let herself be guided to the car. She experienced a sense of disassociation from her physical form, akin to observing herself objectively, as a bystander to her own existence. She was terrified more than the monster had ever scared her, but all she felt was an emptiness. She knew she should be relieved, grateful even.

Lily gazed out the window, taking in the familiar streets as they passed through the town. She recognized familiar faces: Mrs. Thompson walking her dog, Mr. Jenkins starting up his hardware store, and the children riding their bikes along the street. They all appeared so unremarkable.

They all appeared so normal, so blissfully oblivious to the horrors that waited just around the corner from the town. She wanted to yell at them, to alert them, but the words refused to come out of her mouth.

Upon reaching the station, Sheriff Harlow led her through the doors, dodging the odd looks from the deputies and the receptionist. They all had the same look on their faces when they saw her: a mix of morbid curiosity and sympathy. They didn't ask, but they wanted to hear the graphic details and know what had transpired. Not quite yet.

The sheriff motioned for her to "sit here," pointing to a chair in his office. "I'll give your folks a call."

Lily took a seat, her hands still caked in dried blood as she rested them in her lap. She fixed her gaze on them, trying to recall whose blood it was—hers, the monster's, or her own—but the recollections were a jumbled, twisted jumble of noises and pictures that she was unable to sort out.

A woman entered the office as the door opened. Her eyes appeared to miss nothing, and she had keen features and a tall, thin build. She was identified by Lily as the local psychologist, Dr. Evans. She had spoken with her about stress management and mental health a few times at school. Although Lily had never given her any thought before, seeing her now made her tremble.

.

Dr. Evans said, "Lily," in a cool, collected tone. I sincerely apologize for the experiences you've had. Alright, I'm here to assist you. All of us are here to support you.

Lily nodded, not sure what assistance they might provide. Could they take away the pictures etched in her memory, the cries that continued to reverberate within her ears? Could they help her forget the way the monster's glowing, dark eyes had glowed, and how it had grinned at her while tearing her comrades to pieces?

Dr. Evans said, "I know this is overwhelming," as he pulled up a chair next to her. But now you're secure. You made it through. That is what is important.

made it through. The word seemed empty and pointless. She had made it through, but at what cost? When she and her pals had entered those woods, she was a different person. That Lily had vanished, sunk behind the shadows. All that was left was something else, something she was unable to identify.

Dr. Evans extended his hand to take Lily's hand gently. "It's acceptable to feel disoriented and afraid. Your experiences were horrific. However, Lily, you're powerful. You're a combatant. You'll overcome this.

Although Lily wanted to believe her and find solace in her words, all she could focus on was the evil side of herself—the part of herself that had been prepared to go to any lengths in order to survive. She had defeated the monster, but in the process, she had turned into a horrible being.

Lily's parents entered the office with worried expressions on their faces as soon as the door opened again. Her father hovered nearby, his hands trembling, as her mother gave her a firm hug. They comforted her in whispers, assuring her how much they cared and that everything will work out.

Lily felt nothing, though, as she clutched to her mother. Not so much relief as terrible, aching emptiness. She was itching to scream, to cry, to feel anything at all, but the tears refused to flow. There was too much darkness within her, too much to take in.

The village came together for her in the days that followed, providing prayers, food, and support. They referred to her as the "final girl," a survivor, and a hero. She could see the truth in their eyes, though, despite their compliments. She was perceived by them as a helpless victim who required attention and coddling.

They were blind to the power she had to endure and the darkness she had chosen to embrace in order to live. They failed to notice the part of her that was born in those woods, the monster that lurked just below the surface.

And Lily understood that the real horror had only begun when the days grew into weeks and the community gradually reverted to its usual schedule. Although she was the last girl to arrive, she was not the same girl who had entered the woods. That girl was no longer there; something darker took her place.

Although she had made it through the night, she wasn't sure whether she would make it through the day.