A waning moon hung in the middle of the sky, informing everyone who looked up that the month was starting to end and it was around midnight. The cold, bitter breeze that blew by chilled me to the core. I wrapped my arms tighter around my legs, which were pulled up to my chest. The thin sweatshirt that I was wearing over a tank top and the flannel pajama bottoms did little to protect me from the November temperature. However, despite that I freezing I refused to go inside. I couldn't fall asleep, and the sight of the moon always relaxed me. Although, I wasn't sure that my parents would appreciate the fact that my favorite place to look at the moon was on the roof of our house.
I heard wolves howling in the distance and could also, surprisingly, define the mixed screams of cougars. The cougars that lived in our forest were usually quiet, while the wolves were always howling at the moon. My dad had a certain interest in the habits and adaptations of our neighborhood wildlife, so I made a note to inform him of what I had noticed.
I had made slightly less-slanted area of roofing outside of my bedroom window my own personal haven. Whenever something was bothering me or I couldn't sleep, I simply pried the window open, slipped onto the ledge, and tiptoed out to where I always sat.
I inhaled deeply and exhaled in a sigh, watching as my breath curled into smoke-like wisps in front of my face. A shiver that started at my shoulders traveled all the way down to my toes as a strong gust of wind threatened to knock me over. My eyes watered a little, but blinking rapidly a few times cured that problem.
Just as I was deciding that maybe it was time to go back inside and curl up in my warm and welcoming bed, headlights from down the street caught my eye. We—my family and I—lived in a small neighborhood that was surrounded by a forest (the one that a pack of wolves and some cougars lived in). It was surprising to see anyone out so late, especially if they were coming down here. The only inhabitants of our little street were old couples, my family, and one middle-aged couple, which made me wonder why anyone would be down here in the middle of the night.
As the car drew closer, I recognized it to belong to the middle-aged couple, Peter and Joann Covington. They lived in the house next to mine, so my family knew them pretty well. They were younger than my parents by a couple of years, but they didn't have any kids. Still… I doubted that they'd be off doing God knows what and just getting back home at midnight.
The silver Honda Civic passed by my house and pulled up the driveway to the Covington's house. I heard the engine to the car stop and I stood, hurrying across the roof so that I could have a better view of the Covingtons. My foot kicked a pebble, causing it to skitter down the roof. Thankfully, though, it wasn't noticeable because the wolves and cougars were still being loud.
I lowered myself to the roof, laying on my stomach. Mr. Covington got out of the car, slamming his car door shut carelessly. Mrs. Covington was out of the car next, hurrying over to the front door of their house. She fumbled with her keys, trying to find the right one in the darkness of night.
Mr. Covington, I noticed, was cautiously approaching the side door of the car. He waited until his wife had opened the door to the house before he slowly opened the car door. From where I was, I could see Mr. Covington visibly relax. He said something to his wife, which I couldn't catch because of the wolves. The cougars had quieted, but the wolves were still howling—and seeming to get louder.
Mrs. Covington nodded and opened the house door as wide as it would go. Their cat, Lily, tried to escape out the door but Mrs. Covington grabbed her and took her inside, most likely going to shut her in a bathroom.
I turned my attention back to Mr. Covington, who was struggling to pull something out of the backseat of the car. Finally, he managed to get it and what I saw made my heart jump to my throat and my blood turn to ice.
Mr. Covington was actually carrying a person. Granted, the boy was out cold but… it was just too weird. Nothing ever happened here… I noticed the large, dark stains on the boy's clothes and automatically assumed that it was blood, which made my heart thump wildly and unevenly.
As the middle-aged man carried the teenager, who was thrown almost carelessly, it seemed, over his shoulder and walked into his house, I couldn't seem to register what was going on. It took several minutes before I could even move, and even after I had forced myself to stand and go back into my room, slam the window shut, and lock it, I still couldn't process what was going on.
