Page 27 of Rescued By the Beast
Peering over the side of the dumpster, my eyes meet an indescribable horror: pieces of mutilated bodies scattered like disposable debris. A human forearm lies there, torn off at the elbow , the flesh lacerated by deep, jagged cuts, as if it had been attacked with a knife possessed by evil. The hand, with its twisted fingers, seems frozen in a final plea.
Nausea overwhelms me, rising like a stormy sea, but before I can retreat, a sound paralyses me. A dry, rhythmic scratching, nails against the metal of the dumpster. My heart races.
There's someone in there. It must be her, the victim, still alive!
I need to find someone, some human, and try to get them to follow me into the alley to help her.
I need to...
"Help," the soft voice drags from inside. "Help," she repeats, but the human tone distorts, becoming guttural, until it turns into a terrifying noise. I feel a chill run down my spine.
Suddenly, the sound stops, and absolute silence takes over. Then, seconds later, something moves in the dumpster.
A figure begins to emerge, slowly and macabrely.
It rises, inch by inch, as if it will never stop growing. It is not human. It is too tall, too thin. Its dark grey skin is markedby black veins that pulse beneath the surface, vibrating with a horrible energy, as if the very essence of the creature were made of pain and darkness.
The creature leans out, its long, disproportionate arms dragging across the floor. Its enormous fingers end in nails as sharp as daggers, which scratch the cement with a horrifying sound.
And its face...
It is a vision of pure terror.
Its black, cave-like eyes stare at me, deep and hungry, as if they could devour my soul. Its enormous mouth displays long, pointed teeth, and the smell that emanates from it is rotten, like death.
"Hungry," the creature utters, the same female voice as before, and my brain understands that it does this to attract prey.
My body is paralysed with fear, but my mind screams: Run!
My legs take a few uncertain steps backwards, colliding with that forearm. A visceral dread takes hold of me, immobilising my movements. The monster moves slowly, its sharp nails leaving marks on the floor as it approaches, each step a promise of destruction.
I need to run. I need to escape.
But the moment I think that, it lunges forward.
I dodge at the last moment, leaping backwards, my paws sliding across the damp floor of the alley. I run like never before, my heart pounding in my chest.
He follows me, too fast for something so big.
I feel its claws tearing into my back and I scream — a high-pitched, painful meow that echoes through the night. The pain is excruciating, burning like fire, spreading through my body in cruel waves. My body almost gives way, but I force myself to keep going.
I leave the alley, turning onto the street, and in a quick glance behind me, I see that it is now moving on all fours, its long limbs bent grotesquely, like a deformed spider, advancing right behind me.
My back burns as blood flows hot from the wounds. Then another blow hits me, this time on my hind leg, tearing tendons and muscles. I collapse, rolling on the cold ground, and in that instant, he is on top of me.
His mouth opens, revealing rows of sharp, rotten teeth, full of pieces of flesh.
No! I'm not going to die here.
Gathering all the energy I have left, I punch hard at the invisible barrier blocking my essence, my claws leaving cracks in the surface . The door does not give way, but something in it breaks—small, but enough for my healing power to escape.
All shape-shifting cats have seven lives in their supernatural essence.
I consume so much energy for healing that I sacrifice one of my extra lives, feeling intense heat run through my body, restoring my strength as a part of me fades away.
Before the teeth reach me, I twist and escape between its arms and legs. The monster lets out a hiss of surprise, spins quickly to reach me, and stretches out an arm, its claws tearing my skin once more.
Another roar of pain. Another life is consumed.
