True terror is to wake up one morning and discover that my dog died last night whilst sleeping under my bed. He had been ripped in half. Blood was everywhere. My family asked me questions that I didn't know how to answer, like, "Did you hear anything?" "Did you see anything before you went to bed?" Did you feel anything grabbing at you?" Suddenly, I remembered something, "I was getting up to get a glass of water. I heard a bump, and thought it may have just been the pipes." My family looked at me with concern and we put the subject to rest for a while.
That night, my family took our dog to the backyard and we dug a hole. There was a lot of crying, especially from my older brother Matt. "It's okay son," said my father, with a sorrowful look on his face. "Daddy, what happened to him?" asked my little brother Josh. "It was just his time." father said calmly. Soon after, we all went inside.
Mother let me sleep with her and father that night. I was too frightened to go back to my room. I was afraid the same thing might happen to me. We all settled into bed, but we all had a hard time sleeping.
The next morning I was woken up by a scream. I went to go see what had happened, but to my horror, I saw my little brother's lifeless body lying in his bed. Ripped in half, just like the dog. Tears flooded my eyes. I couldn't bear the sight. We had his funeral the next day, we all cried and said our goodbyes.
The next few days we all sat around in silence until father had something to say, "We have had a very hard and unfortunate few days, and that is why we’re all starting counseling tomorrow. Your mother and I have agreed that it is the best thing for this family. I went to bed that night thinking that everything would be okay once I woke up, but then I soon realized that I never would. The next morning I was awoken by another scream, but then I saw a bloody sight, my dead body. As if that wasn’t bad enough, then I heard a voice.
