“I am not in love with anyone,” I repeated.

“Be sure and let me know when you realize that youʼre wrong about that, okay?” Talley said as she reached over to turn out the light. “I would hate to miss another opportunity to say ʻI told you soʼ.”

I spent the next few hours tossing and turning, despite the nighttime pain reliever Talley had given me for my sore butt. I have never slept well in a bed other than my own without Guido, and all the inner-turmoil certainly was not helping the situation.

I dozed off for a short time and awoke feeling deeply unsettled. Snippets of a dream floated just outside my consciousness. All I could remember clearly was Alex, Charlie, ice cream, and the sensation of being ripped in two.

The thin sheets scratched my arms and legs as I listened to the heaterʼs choleric rumble and Talleyʼs deafening snore. When the walls began to close in on me I realized I could not stay in that room one moment longer. I got up, putting on my coat and shoes as quietly as possible before slipping out the door.

The night was silent and beautiful. The snow storm had ended, leaving the sky clear enough to see hundreds of glittering stars and the bright, full moon that reflected on the pristine newly fallen snow.

I spotted the electric glow of a gas station and developed an intense craving for stale snack cakes and super-sweet hot chocolate. If I followed the sidewalk to get there I would have to pass in front of Hankʼs Hangout, a bar whose chipped pink paint job was certain to attract only the most reputable clients. Instead, I opted to cut through the wooded area behind the motel.

Thanks to my NyQuil induced brain fog and the shadows provided by the trees, it wasnʼt until I was a few feet away that I noticed a man standing at the bottom of the hill. I froze as I recognized the telltale signs of a street person - multiple layers of dirty clothes, unkempt hair, unwashed skin, and the unmistakable air of desperation.

He had picked something up off the ground and was examining it. It was just a plain black coat, but something about it bothered me.

I cautiously moved closer. There were more articles of clothing scattered around the old manʼs feet. It looked like some jeans, a shirt, a sweater, and a pair of shoes. The man picked up one of the shoes and held it in the moonlight.

The soft, wintery world froze around me. Even from a distance I could tell that it was from a pair of Adidas Gazelles.

Adrenaline pumped through my veins and I acted without thinking.

“What are you doing?” I demanded, stumbling down the embankment. “Where did you get those? What have you done to him?”

The man wheeled around to face me. I was close enough to smell a mixture of body odor and alcohol as he disturbed the air.

“These things are mine. I found them.” His words were slurred, but his movements were quick and jerky, like a wild, skittish animal.

Or a homeless guy hopped up on meth.

“Those are Alexʼs clothes. Where is he? What did you do to him?” I frantically looked around, terrified I would see his dead, naked body frozen on the ground.

“I didnʼt do nothinʼ to nobody. I found these things. Theyʼre mine.” He started gathering up all the clothes. I noticed that the T-shirt was a retro Spider-Man shirt, the one that Alex wore every Tuesday. I reached out and snatched it away.

“You canʼt have these things! These are Alexʼs things! Give them back!” I reached for the pants, but the man grabbed my arm with a surprising amount of strength.

“I told you, I found these,” he said, pulling me towards him so that our faces were almost touching. The smell was overpowering. His eyes had a manic glint. “I told you they were mine.” He suddenly shoved me backwards, throwing me to the ground. The intense pain from falling yet again on my backside caused me to black out for a few seconds. By the time I recovered the man was on top of me, his knees on either side of my hips. A knife appeared out of nowhere and pressed against my throat.

“I donʼt like beinʼ called a liar, girl. Ya hear me?” I couldnʼt respond, paralyzed by fear. I knew I should try to fight back, that I should do something other than just lie there, but I couldnʼt. My body seemed incapable of movement.

He rubbed himself against me, his bloodshot eyes roaming up and down my body. “Youʼre not a very pretty girl, are you? Donʼt worry, though. Thatʼs alright with me. I never did like pretty girls anyhow.”

My brain finally managed to get through to my body. My right hand came up and wrenched the knife away from my throat as my left delivered a sharp punch to his midsection. I tried to roll my body to get out from underneath him, but he anticipated the move. He pressed himself even more firmly against me and grabbed my arms, pinning me to the ground.

“Donʼt be that way, sugar,” he said with a laugh. My stomach turned at the realization that he was enjoying himself. “Weʼre gonna have us —”

His next words were cut off by a feral growl that sliced through the night and reverberated in my bones.

“What the hell?” I heard him mutter just before something flashed above me, knocking him backwards.

I should have been terrified by the scene that was playing out, but it was too surreal. I sat up to find the man sitting on the ground, the knife outstretched in his hand in an attempt to keep the wild animal standing before him at bay. The animal, which appeared to be a large dog, was crouched down, hair standing on ends as a litany of snarls and growls erupted from its throat. There was no doubt that his razor sharp teeth would have no problem ripping the homeless man to shreds.

They could just as easily have done some rather unpleasant things to my fragile flesh, yet I couldnʼt seem to make myself be frightened. Instead, I was fascinated by beauty of the creature before me. His thick coat was a blend of white, reddish-brown, grey, and black. A part of my brain determined that it was a wolf, while another part of my brain realized that I might have been experiencing some sort of trauma related shock.

The standoff finally ended when the man lunged at the animal with his knife, causing the wolf to jump back. He had just enough time to get back on his feet and run. The wolf gave chase, gaining on him as they disappeared into the night.

I pulled myself off the ground. A quick inventory of my moving parts determined that aside from a broken tailbone, some wet clothes, and possible mental scarring, I was okay. I forced any thoughts of the horror I had just experienced from my mind and focused on what needed to be done.

I knew that I was supposed to leave everything just as it was so the police could gather evidence. I watched CSI, I knew how murder investigations worked, but I couldnʼt do it. I couldnʼt walk away and leave his clothes laying there. It would be admitting that he was gone, and I couldnʼt do that just yet.