The Boy

Natasha held back tears as she made her way back home. It was supposed to be a fun night, but instead she was met with utter betrayal. She was invited to a college party, and while she offered to go get drinks for her girlfriends, she spotted her boyfriend with another girl. 

They were making out on the couch, and they had spotted her. The girl sneered in her direction, and Natasha recognized her from the writing club she attended at the university. She should have known what kind of person she was, the first time her boyfriend came over to pick her up from the club, that girl could not stop making eyes at him. 

Her boyfriend shoved the girl away, and she crashed to the ground as he made his way toward Natasha, his hands reaching for her, his eyes pleading with hers. Natasha threw her friends' drinks into his face, and stormed out of the house. Her friends were calling out to her, but she ignored them. 

The environment suddenly felt claustrophobic, and she had to get the hell out of there. Now she was walking in the dark, not knowing where she was going. She received multiple texts and calls from her friends, but she ignored them. Natasha even blocked her location, so that no one would bother me. 

She knew that was stupid, they might even call the cops if they start to panic. She wouldn't doubt they were already driving around the area, searching for her. Those were the kind of friends Natasha was so thankful to have, so why was she out here all alone, telling her friends to fuck off, letting her anger get the best of her? 

This has always been a problem with Natasha. Whenever life throws an obstacle in her way, she runs. She had done that her whole life, and her own family got fed up with her behavior. She would hide from the police for hours, sometimes days, and then she would return home, acting like nothing happened. She had good folks who loved her, so why did she torture them like that?

Perhaps she should have gotten therapy like her parents said, because who the hell continues this kind of childish bullshit all the way to adulthood?

Natasha giggled, and bit back a sob.

"God, I'm such an asshole," she murmured. 

She kicked at a random can in the middle of the road, hearing it clang against the road. 

I'm just like that can. I keep running, but I don't know why I do it.

Natasha stuck her hands in her pockets, hung her head, and started to whistle a tune that her mother would sing to her when she was a child. She was trying to remember the lyrics, when she heard the same can get kicked again. She gasped, and turned around to find a boy walking by her. 

He had blonde hair, and he was wearing a blue and white striped shirt over blue shorts, and white converse sneakers. The boy looked up at her, his light blue eyes studying her. 

"Shit, you scared me!," Natasha said.

She bit back her words, feeling guilty for saying a cuss word in front of a child. The last thing she needed was getting this kid in trouble for copying a word from a stranger who probably acted more like a kid than this one. 

The kid shrugged. 

"Sorry."

The kid's voice was like a whisper, almost like he was struggling to speak. Perhaps he had a sore throat, they were now in the fall season after all. 

"Are you okay? You seem sad."

Natasha brushed at her face, surprised to find her face wet. 

"Oh…uh. I got kind of upset, and I decided to go for a walk."

"Why?"

Natasha hesitated before answering, but thought why the fuck not? It's not like she was ever going to see him again anyway. But she was going to sugarcoat it. This was a child, a kid who was still navigating his way through life.

"Someone hurt my feelings, and I got so mad, I ran away."

"Why did you run? Aren't…people going to be worried about you?"

Natasha felt a pang of guilt in her chest. 

"Yes. I think so."

The kid tilted his head. 

"I would feel bad if I worried my mommy and daddy. I think they would cry buckets of tears if I ran away."

Natasha turned away from the kid, covering her mouth, trying not to break down. 

"Y - Yeah. I guess they would, won't they?," she replied softly. 

"They would be even more sad, if you were found in pieces."

Natasha looked back at the kid. 

"Um…why would you say something like that?"

The kid smiled. 

"Because you are all alone. Anything can happen to a pretty lady like you. Evil men like to do bad things to pretty girls like you. Cutting them up and kidnapping girls like you is fun for them. Empowering, even."

"What the fuck? You shouldn't say shit like that, kid. It's wrong."

The kid raised one of his eyebrows. 

"Then why did you run away from your friends like that? You're selfish for making them worry about you. And you made them worry, because of a boy."

Natasha froze. 

"How the fuck do you know that?"

The boy's smile grew wider. 

"You never should have run away, Natasha."

The boy lifted up his hands, and his nails were now huge claws, resembling a monster from a nightmare. His eyes were glowing white, and his teeth were now as sharp as a butcher knife. 

"Run, run, run, little girl," he crooned. 

Natasha screamed, and started running down the neighborhood block. She screamed as loud as she could, hoping that one of the houses would hear her. She tripped, and crashed to the ground. She screamed when she felt the worst pain in her life. Something was slicing up her legs, and she screamed and screamed until people ran outside. 

Natasha was sobbing on the road, her hands reaching out for anyone to help her. The pain was unbearable, it was like five dogs had jumped her and had a feast on her legs. Two women saw her and shrieked when they saw the carnage. Natasha should not have looked, but the curiosity got the best of her. 

When she saw her wounds, Natasha could not scream. It was like her throat wouldn't allow her. Her legs were missing skin. Several pieces were hanging from her legs, and bits of her skin were on the road. Natasha passed out, and she was grateful for that darkness, knowing that she would no longer feel that horrid pain. 

---

She woke up in the hospital. All of her friends were there, and they were so happy to see her awake. They explained to her that she was brought here, and they drove all the way over here to stay with her. They had left the party shortly after, searching for her. They scolded her for turning off her location, and for making them worry. 

Natasha sobbed, telling them she was sorry. Her parents came over to visit her too, and they hugged her, telling her that they were grateful that she was alright. Natasha told authorities her story, but she could tell they did not believe her. No one did. Even though she was frustrated and exhausted that no one took her story seriously, she knew it was impossible to believe. 

Everyone assumed she was attacked by a pack of wild animals, and Natasha didn't blame them for believing that version. Sometimes she wondered if it all really happened. That thing that attacked her vanished before she was saved. She wondered if she hadn't been in a neighborhood, would she have been saved on time? Or was the boy not trying to kill her, but to teach her a lesson? To not run away from home anymore?

Whenever Natasha would look at her legs, the scars would remind her to not run away from her problems anymore. There would be days she would peek through her apartment window, wondering if the boy was out there. Whatever it was, Natsha didn't think it mattered. 

She wasn't going to ever run away again. 

Because something told her that the boy wouldn't let her live next time. 

---

Thank you for reading!

Emy Quinn