You drifted in and out of consciousness for a long time. Sometimes the world was dull enough that you couldn't feel anything, but others were far more cruel. An extreme pain spread along your nerves whenever your mind dared to return, causing you to hiss and whimper until the darkness claimed you again. You couldn't manage to properly scream or cry whenever you woke because you were always too tired. It simply felt like there wasn't enough air in your lungs. You never really had the time to think about what was going on in these short periods of agony, you only knew that you were very badly hurt and needed help.

There were quiet murmurs around you and you groggily realised that you were not alone. Something moved and what felt like white hot fire shot up your leg, causing you to cry out and shake. It hurt so much that you just wanted to curl up into a ball to get away from it, but even your own movements were torture and you just ended up miserably gasping for breath with your eyes squeezed shut. Your throat was too cracked and dry to scream a second time as you whimpered and felt sweat gather on your face.

Someone placed something large and warm against your skin. You were almost certain it was a fuzzy blanket of some sort. It pushed the sticky patches of your hair gently out of your face and rocked your head softly. It was comforting and you eventually managed to calm yourself, trying and failing to mutter out something that might have resembled a thank you.

You felt yourself being lifted upwards as you silently blacked out again.

...

...

It was horrific when you finally woke up. Pain throbbed through your body starting from your lower leg and you quietly wheezed out a miserable breath. This time was different from the others. You just knew you were going to remain conscious and you cursed your miserable existence. Laying still in an attempt to even out your breathing, you worked on opening your eyes.

The roof above you was dim and blurry as you continued to squint and blink at it. For a moment you dully wondered who had built a roof over the hole you'd fell down before you began to remember faint feelings and movements from the times you'd almost woken up.

Obviously someone had moved you to a safer (and softer) place. Wherever you were it didn't smell like a hospital, which meant that it was unlikely to be a member of your search party. You had all agreed prior on the proper responses to injury during the search: Get to a zone with reception and call an ambulance immediately. Maybe someone who lived near the mountain had found you and carried you to their home?

And yet, as you stared at the ceiling and tried to calmly sort through the details of your situation, you felt terrified.

You'd been separated from your group, lost on a mountain known for causing dozens of people to go missing. You'd been lured even further away from the path by a strange child calling for help and then attacked (if the pain was anything to go by) when you had no hope of escaping safely. It seemed so obvious now why people had been going missing. Such a simple trick could lead any concerned passer-by away from help and onto the mountain. You honestly wanted to kick yourself. Your concern and determination had led you to acting like a character from a slasher flick. And worse...

What if whoever picked you up was in on it too?

Should have gone back to the group, IDIOT! You hissed at yourself.

You squeezed your eyes shut again and tried to calm the panic building up within you. You were letting yourself get paranoid. There was still a chance that the people who had picked you up were good. There was no guarantee that they were weird murderers. Or kidnappers. Or weird kidnapping murderers. You didn't even know how long you had been out for. Maybe your mysterious rescuers were outside right now, calling for help. There was no decent cell service on the mountain after all. Still, you wished you could remember what happened properly.

Unfortunately the only image that your mind could pull forth from the pain and panic was a pair of blood-red eyes.

You shivered at the memory. Though you couldn't remember your assailant's features with complete accuracy, the image of those eyes was burned into your mind. There'd been so much hatred behind them and, even deeper than that, there had been a dangerous spark that made you picture a smug villain proclaiming their victory. Something about them made your gut twist and your head pound with a fear that you couldn't understand. All you knew was that you never wanted to come face to face with those eyes ever again, even in a fuzzy recollection.

Now fully awake and out of other options, you looked around the room with a heavy head. It was dark and carried the musk of faintly of warm wood and worn carpets. Wherever you were it must have been decently close to the mountain; you didn't know anywhere in the city could replicate the distant yet pleasant scent of soft soil and dried leaves. Other than that it just seemed kind of small; the kind of room you'd expect to be used for kids or very young teens. Maybe it would have been at least a little more interesting if you could actually inspect the objects in the room, but you were just too sore to get up to walk around and investigate further.

Besides,there was something more important you had to inspect first; yourself. Or, at least, your leg. You had a feeling that it probably wouldn't be good due to the occasionally spiking pain that would travel up and cause you to flinch and tear up.

Steeling yourself, you groaned as you hefted your heavy head off the pillow you were laying on. For a moment the world was spinning and you almost passed out again. Just how far had you fallen? Maybe you had a head injury. You felt really weak in general and wondered for a moment if you should give up and lie back down. After a moment of internal debate, curiosity won out over your exhaustion. You wheezed with the effort it took to lift yourself onto your elbows, careful to keep everything below your hips as still as possible to prevent injuring yourself more.

You hung your head low and stared blindly at your lap. Your vision was swirling around and nausea was beginning to overtake you. During the time it took for your dizziness to fade you noticed that your leg was propped up on something. Damn, was it broken? It hurt enough to be broken. Would you have to wear a cast? Or maybe it was just swollen...

As soon as you caught your breath you looked up to assess the damage.

"Oh no. Oh no, no. S-shi... no, no, no... nooo...!"

It was way worse than you had thought.

You whined and whimpered as you let your head fall back onto the downy pillow. Your ears were ringing as your mind spiralled into an instinctual panic that you couldn't control. Despite trying to remain calm and logical about the situation, you felt yourself becoming faint.

The pain you'd felt in your leg was the result of a stab wound. The weapon used to attack you was a rusty steel knife.

You knew this because the knife was still there, handle pressed flat to the back of your leg and the tip of the blade jutting out through the opposite side.

It's ok! I'm ok! You repeated to yourself as your vision swam and your ears reached a pitch that made your head fog over. I'm not dead. At least I'm not dead. I'm still alive and this can be fixed!

Without your permission, your body continued to react to your distress. Your breathing became shaky despite how much you tried to even it out and your vision began to blur as hot tears ran thick trails down your face. A thick clump of something sat heavy in your throat and chest. Everything was so unbelievably horrible in that moment. You didn't know where you were, how you got there or what you'd done to deserve anything that was happening to you. It wasn't fair.

Sniffling, you pressed your hands hard over your eyes, trying to use the pressure as a distraction of some kind. It didn't really work and you continued to sniffle quietly.

Why was the knife still there? Maybe the person who'd taken you to the child's room didn't have the medical experience to remove it. It was probably better this way. After all, if the knife was removed you'd just be left with a knife-shaped hole. It was no wonder you were so weak and dizzy. How much blood had you lost before you woke up? You probably didn't have much more to lose. Despite the way things looked, the best course of action seemed to be to leave the knife there and allow your dried blood to keep the wound sealed.

Your calf muscles twitched in response to your racing thoughts and a new wave of pain flicked through you. Gritting your teeth, you resigned yourself to it. You would endure this no matter how much your body seemed to want to freak out.

About eight minutes later you felt that you were finally beginning to calm down. Your tears had dried against your face, clumping your eye lashes together with salt. The ringing in your ears faded, becoming a dull hum and eventually leaving you in silence. Your breathing was even and the pain wassitting on the line of 'not completely unbearable'. All things considered, you felt kind of proud of yourself. Compared to what could have been, you felt you'd stayed relatively in control of your absolutely justified panic attack.

Maybe if you just didn't think about it, everything would be fine. All you had to do was avoid looking down.

Now you were tired again. All the panic, fear and pain had taken a huge toll on you. Worrying about what was going to happen next only made you feel sick and uncomfortable. You didn't want to be awake. You wanted to be at a hospital with a perfectly healed leg. Maybe if you just went back to sleep the next time you opened your eyes would be on a bright, clean hospital bed...

Just as you were about to drift off again the bedroom door opened.

You quickly snapped back to attention, keeping yourself as still as possible as someone very large entered the room. You briefly contemplated pretending that you were still asleep- What if they're dangerous? your mind questioned again- but you felt that very little would be solved that way. You needed to know what kind of situation you were in: was this person was your savior or your unfortunate end? So, instead of letting yourself fade back into unconsciousness, you braced yourself and shielded your eyes as the lights snapped on.

…

"Oh dear, you're awake!"