Stan woke up with a burning pain in his left shoulder and across his chest. His body ached. He shivered, where am I? He thought; his back was cold. He looked around, there was just enough light to see, he could make out the shape of trees? I'm in the forest? Stan thought why I am in the forest so early on the morning. He sat up and cried out in pain, his hand shakily toughed his burning shoulder and he cried out again, when he removed his hand crimson blood covered it. Stan swallowed, he was bleeding and looking next to him he could tell he had lost a lot of blood.
He stood up and wobbled because of getting up too fast. His legs were numb but he stumbled forward, too scared and cold to stay in one place he kept on walking until he found the footpath, why was he so far off the path? He was disorientated and didn't know which way to go he finally made a decision please let it be the right way he thought.
He felt so tired, his body ached and screamed at him to stop and lie down; it sounded so tempting but he knew he still had to go on otherwise he would die. That much he knew and he didn't want to die alone in a forest. His whole life was still ahead of him, he was only seventeen years old.
The bitter Colorado wind blew onto him and it felt like it was cutting him with icy blades, he stumbled but continued and started running. He reached the edge of the forest and tried to catch his breath. He looked at the small mountain town that lay beneath him, he ran home thinking that he would be safe there. The pain was becoming unbearable and his limbs were weakening.
But still he ran. Subconsciously he knew he had to get away but he dint know why and didn't want to find out either, whatever had met him before already had a piece of him. The blood was oozing out of his shoulder and he saw crimson paint his shirt. He ran down familiar streets, which were all empty as it was so early in the morning. Not a soul was out; no-one could help him.
Then Stan saw a very familiar house and dragged himself there. He propped himself against the side of the house while his fist pounded the door; he heard movement and tried to stand up. A fat woman glared at him clearly irritated for being woken up so early in the morning as she still was wearing her pyjamas and her red hair was messy "what?" she shouted. Stan fell forward through the door he heard her scream "help" he murmured before everything went black…