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“It’s going to be okay; I know it’s going to be,”
Wilbur tried to bury his face into Friend’s wool. It hurt; it itched his face, but he had nothing else to hide with. His throat was raw, his sweater itched his whole body, and his eyes were sore. It was all too much; everything was too much and overwhelming.
Friend bleated, the sound thrashing across the train station. Ghostbur hugged Friend even tighter, letting his head free of her wool. His nose was running. He tried to wipe it up, but his skin felt like it was on fire, falling apart at the seams. His tears weren’t making it any better, irritating the delicate skin.
The train station’s colours were fading into a dull mash of brown and black. As Ghostbur tried to wipe his eyes, an explosion of light erupted into his vision.
The light felt like needles sewing themselves slowly into his eyes, but he couldn’t avoid. His hair rushed as the thing zoomed past him.
Then, erupted silence. Looking up, his body weak and shaking he saw a train. In front of him, the lights flickered on. He clutched Friend’s fur as his heartbeat exploded.
No, please stay away. Go away. Go away.
Not now. Not now.
The train door opened as every noise exploded in his ears. “Please, no,” He shook out. Friend bleated louder and louder; her fur pressed firm against his body.
Firm. Firm. Firm. Focus. Focus on that.
Light shone out behind a man. He towered above him, the only thing you could see was his hair. A small, sharp piece of white hair.
“Aw, we’ve got a little problem here?” A man emerged. “How weak,” He snarled. “Now, it thinks if it would be good if we had a little talk,” He growled through his teeth.
It was him.
The Bad man.