The incessant barking of our new neighbors' dogs sliced through the morning stillness, a serrated blade of sound that made my heart flutter. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, the soft carpet a fleeting comfort against the chilling memory of yesterday's encounter.

In the washroom, my reflection stared back. The faint imprint of the creature's grasp, a collar-shaped bruise, was still visible on my throat. I traced the angry red mark with my fingertips, a shiver coursing through me as its twisted face flashed in my mind.

Downstairs, the warm scent of freshly brewed coffee and toast filled the air, a stark contrast to the darkness that shrouded my thoughts. My family was oblivious, my dad engrossed in his trading, my mom focused on breakfast.

"Living here is so dull," my younger brother Sami complained, pushing cereal around his bowl. "I wish school started soon." His eyes, once bright with excitement, now seemed lackluster.

My mother's gaze shifted to me, her expression serious. "Honey, take your brother with you when you go out. He can't stay cooped up all day." Her words, laced with concern, felt like a mandate.

"Sure, Mom, I'll take him with me," I said, plastering on a smile to hide my true intentions. "Alright, Sami, I'm going out right after breakfast, so you better be ready."