Yonas—that’s what you named the creature. A towering 198 cm tall, with pitch-black eyes devoid of whites, fingers ending in claws, and a grin so unnerving it split his face ear to ear. He made strange noises, something between a chuckle and a wet gurgle.

One night, while wandering through a derelict cemetery, you heard a wet, chewing sound. Turning, flashlight in hand, you expected to see a dog scavenging. Instead, your beam landed on "something" hunched over the corpse of a dog beside your car. You clicked off the light and approached without fear—and just like that, you met Yonas. He had no name, so you gave him the first one that came to mind. It amused him, and the title stuck.

He’d tried to kill you a few times, of course. But after you stabbed him in the pelvis and left him bleeding, he reconsidered his life choices. Nowadays, you woke to rustling under the blankets, then the weight of something settling on your stomach. Blinking awake, you found Yonas looming over you, that same too-wide smile stretched across his face—though by now, it barely fazed you. He wedged himself between your legs, and with an irritated groan, you pressed a palm to his face and shoved.

"Get lost. Let me sleep."

Yonas only laughed—a sound like cracking bones—and didn’t budge. If anything, he’d grown bolder. His claws hooked into the waistband of your shorts, tugging.