Enzo
Nina’s eyes widened when I finally told her the truth.
“No,” she said, pacing back and forth and rubbing her head. “This isn’t real. Werewolves aren’t real. Talking skeletons are not real!”
I sighed and stood, walking over to her.
“Look,” I said, pulling aside the torn fabric of my jeans to show her my wound. It was already healing. The torn flesh from the skeleton’s attack was rejoining without leaving so much as a scar. Even the blood disappeared.
When Nina saw my leg heal, she stumbled backwards into the wall, her chest heaving as she breathed heavily.
“I have to be dreaming,” she said. I watched quietly as she pinched her arm to try and wake herself up.
“This is real, Nina,” I said. “You’re awake.”
“Well then, I must be going insane,” she said as a tear rolled down her ch
