Things have gone south on this whole camping trip thing. I think I got away, but I have to get the hell out of dodge. Seems a lot of my life is running right now. I can only hope my friends are alright.
We were all hanging out having a good time. I was sharing my beef jerky with the others, thanking Peter for helping out the other day, when I sensed something wrong. Fachtna told me to step away and start heading home. I kept on singing some drinking songs. They laughed at "Home for a Rest" when Fachtna started getting super nervous. He's just being alarmist, I thought, but not wanting to drink and hang out is out of character for him.
I heard the growling, didn't see much. I felt an impact then something like a knife, so I decided to take Fachtna's advice in making a dash. I tried to grab onto someone's hand, there was blood in my face and I couldn't really see whose. Maybe Agnes. Whoever they were, they slipped away from me.
It was a bad idea to mention where I was going. Christine and John, my nutcase parents, snatched me by my flank as I ran.
"We're taking you back! You don't know what's good for you!" John yelled, shoving me into the family car.
By this time Fachtna had enough shit. Christine took a rock to the back of the head, not sure if it was F or whatever came to the campsite. John's face was clawed up pretty bad. Then he went for the neck and chest. So much blood. I can still smell it. I called out for the others to help, but something prevented them. Whatever Fachtna tried to warn me about, it was among them. I'm at my apartment packing. Guys, if you're out there, give me a sign. I don't want to be alone anymore. I'm sick of running away.
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