The Luna's Sweet Revenge

Chapter 9 The Haunting

I made my way through the school halls, my singular intention to evade the enigmatic man from my dreams. Arriving at a corner, I sought solace against the wall outside the school cafeteria. The pungent scent of square pizzas, crinkle-cut fries, and souring milk assaulted my senses, provoking a visceral reaction as I fought to regain composure. With trembling hands braced on my knees, I endeavored to calm my racing heart, acutely aware of the imminent peril. The specter of severe consequences loomed, a palpable threat hanging over me in the form of an iron fist.

As I briefly shut my eyes, the realization that the man from my dreams was a flesh-and-blood reality gradually seeped in. The rush of adrenaline ebbed, replaced by a gnawing panic. He was no longer a figment of my slumbering mind but a tangible presence - flesh, blood, and sinew. Despite his exquisite appearance, I felt an urgent need to flee, unwilling to confront him in my current state of vulnerability.

After the altercation with Andrew, the sterile confines of the school corridors seemed to constrict around me, suffocating me within their boundaries. Steadying myself, I winced at the searing pain in my shoulder, biting my lip to stifle a grimace. Every inch of my body throbbed with agony, every cut and scratch a fiery reminder of the chaos.

Surveying the corridor, I meticulously assessed my chances of slipping away undetected. Examining my scuffed shoes against the worn linoleum flooring, I gauged the sound of each step, every clink of the buckles reverberating in my ears. With cautious precision, I inched closer to the steel double doors, the portal to my escape looming ahead.

Solely fixated on freedom, I inadvertently collided with the sharp edge of a partially opened locker, a sharp sting lingering in its wake. School spirit and pride went unnoticed as I fixated on the doors and the path to liberty. Reigniting my determination, I sidestepped into the shadows between two stand-alone lockers, a wave of fear washing over me. Moments of tense anticipation unfolded as I listened for passing footsteps, awaiting signs of safety before emerging back into the vacant hallway.

The haunting silence that lingered in the aftermath of the commotion sent a shiver down my spine, heightening my apprehension. With each passing moment, the looming threat of discovery fueled my primal fear of a potentially fatal retribution.

With cautious steps, I approached the door to the classroom. The groan of a desk chair and the scrape of wood on wood reverberated from beneath the door, prompting me to freeze and hold my breath, certain of imminent discovery. After a tense minute passed without incident, I cautiously opened my eyes and peered through the glass on the door. The teacher seemed preoccupied, stealthily taking a sip of whiskey from a bottle concealed in the bottom drawer of his desk. A moment of relief swept over me. The gaping wound on my shoulder had reopened, a painful reminder of the altercation with Andrew or the frantic escape from the man in my dreams. Crimson blood trickled down my arm, winding its way to my hand like a sinuous serpent before pooling at my nails and dripping onto the floor, leaving a dark trail in its wake.

The journey down that seemingly endless hall felt interminable, each second laden with the weight of impending danger – the fear of the bell signaling the end of the class or the arrival of another person bearing down on me like a crushing boulder. The whisper of the wind outside and the draft teasing my feet from under the door spurred a renewed urgency. I could sense the nearness of my escape. In a burst of determination, I propelled myself forward, running as swiftly as my battered body allowed. Placing my hand on the push-bar and exerting force, the door remained steadfast, adding to the oppressive weight pressing on my chest. Frustration mounting, I kicked the door and pushed once more. The need to break free consumed me. Grasping the handle with all my might, I pulled until the door finally gave way, ushering in a rush of cool, liberating air. The taste of freedom coated my tongue as I marveled at the sense of release. The crimson imprint of my hand on the silver door was the only clue of my presence and departure.

Without pause, I raced toward the gate, dismissing the searing pain wracking my body. Bursting through the gate, I fled the confines of the school grounds, my destination the wooded area leading to the cliffs overlooking the town of South, the only other major town in the Lemuel pack's territory. There had been rare instances when the Goddesses had smiled upon me, granting me sanctuary at the cliffs. During those sacred moments, my father had been preoccupied fulfilling his duties as the alpha, leaving me to contend with the rest of the pack. Though such opportunities were scarce, I cherished each one for the respite it provided.

Her ribs throbbed, her shoulder burned, and her entire body ached. The prospect of being caught and returned to her father sent chills down my spine. As the ruler of the Lemuel pack, his authority was absolute, and disobedience was not tolerated. The expanse of green lawn before me appeared vast, stretching out like a football field, though in reality, it was not as expansive. With each step, I fought to maintain my balance, acutely aware that a fall could lead to detection from a classroom window. Pushing through the pain, I willed my body forward, a gray fog enveloping my mind from the excruciating agony.

A quick glance backward revealed a shadow near the staircase to the main door, sparking panic within me. Stumbling once more, I crashed to the damp grass, feeling the impact on my knees and elbows. Suppressing a cry of pain, I rose to my feet and pressed on, despite the searing discomfort. Slowing my pace, I continued forward, knowing stopping was not an option. The hawk's cry pierced the air, a sound that stirred distant memories. Numb from blood loss and suffering, I reached a clearing beyond the trees and reduced my pace to a walk, deeming it safe to do so. The thought of having to hide if someone approached bizarrely represented a form of freedom I scarcely comprehended.

Opting to veer off the path proved advantageous for avoiding detection by the pack, yet it complicated the ascent to safety. Thoughts of liberation consumed my mind as the distant wail of a train horn carried on the wind from the station in South. It sounded like an invitation to a new life, fueling my hope for a better future. One day, after completing my education, I vowed to board that train, escape this existence, and venture wherever it may lead me. The rhythmic thud-thud of the train wheels mirrored the beat of my heart, drawing me closer to my aspirations.