The Licked Hand

Caroline had always been a light sleeper, but that night was different. She tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position, her mind racing with thoughts and worries. She glanced at the clock: 2:34 AM. She sighed, closed her eyes and tried to relax.

But then, she felt something wet on her hand. She jolted upright, her heart pounding, her eyes wide open. It was pitch dark in her room, but she could sense a presence next to her bed. She tried to move her hand, but something was holding it down. She heard a soft, rhythmic sound, like a dog panting.

"Hello?" she whispered, her voice shaking. "Who's there?"

No answer. She tried to reach for the light switch, but her hand was stuck. She could feel a tongue on her skin, lapping up the sweat. She shuddered, repulsed by the sensation. She tried to scream, but her throat was dry.

She mustered all her courage and leaned over the edge of the bed, straining her eyes to see what was there. In the faint glow of the streetlight, she saw a pair of gleaming eyes, reflecting back at her. They were yellow, like a dog's.

Caroline's heart raced faster. She tried to pull her hand away, but it was firmly held down. The tongue licked her hand again, with more force this time. She felt a chill run down her spine.

"Who are you?" she asked again. "What do you want?"

No answer. The eyes just stared back at her, unblinking. Caroline felt trapped, helpless. She wondered if she was dreaming, or if she had gone mad. She closed her eyes, hoping it would all go away.

But the licking continued. And the panting. And the staring.

Caroline tried to think of a way out. She remembered the pepper spray on her nightstand, but it was out of reach. She tried to wiggle her hand free, but it was stuck. She tried to reason with the dog, but it was silent.

She felt a bead of sweat trickle down her forehead. She felt her heartbeat in her temples. She felt a sense of dread, of impending danger.

And then, suddenly, it was over. The tongue stopped licking, the eyes disappeared, the panting faded away. Caroline was alone in her room, in the silence of the night. She looked at her hand, still trembling, and saw that it was covered in saliva. She wiped it off with a tissue, and noticed a strange smell. It was like wet fur, and dirt, and something else.

Caroline didn't sleep for the rest of the night. She lay there, wide awake, listening for any sound. But there was nothing. No footsteps, no barking, no scratching. It was as if the dog had vanished into thin air.

In the morning, Caroline tried to shake off the feeling of unease. She went about her day as usual, going to work, running errands, meeting friends. But she couldn't shake off the memory of the licked hand. It haunted her, like a ghostly presence in her life.

That night, she came back to her room, and found everything as she had left it. The sheets were unchanged, the pillows were fluffed, the curtains were drawn. But she could still smell the strange scent. She tried to ignore it, and went to bed early.

But she couldn't sleep. She heard every creak, every rustle, every whisper. She imagined the dog coming back, or worse, something even more terrifying. She wished she had a roommate, or a dog of her own, to keep her company and protect her.

Hours passed, and Caroline was still awake. She looked at the clock: 2:34 AM. The same time as the night before. She shuddered, and felt a sense of déjà vu. She closed her eyes, and tried to calm down.

And then, she felt it again. A wet sensation on her hand. She opened her eyes, and saw the same pair of yellow eyes staring at her from under the bed. The same dog, or whatever it was, had returned.

Caroline wanted to scream, but her throat was dry. She wanted to run, but her legs were numb. She was trapped, once again, with the strange animal licking her hand.

This time, however, something was different. Caroline felt a surge of anger, of frustration, of defiance. She wasn't going to let this creature control her anymore. She was going to fight back.

She clenched her free fist, and hit the dog with all her might. She felt a thud, and a yelp. She heard the animal scurry away, under the bed. She felt a sense of relief, of triumph, of power.

But then, something strange happened. Caroline felt a hand, a human hand, grab her wrist. She opened her eyes, and saw a figure looming over her bed. It was a man, with long hair and a beard, wearing a torn shirt and ripped pants. He had a wild look in his eyes, and his breath smelled of alcohol.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Caroline asked, trying to pull her hand away. "Get out of my room!"

The man just grinned, and licked his lips. Caroline realized with horror that he was the one who had been licking her hand. He was the one who had been under her bed, like a predator waiting for his prey.

She screamed, and kicked him with all her might. She saw him stumble, and fall to the floor. She heard a crunch, and a groan. She felt a sense of satisfaction, of justice, of revenge.

But then, the man got up, and lunged at her. He grabbed her by the neck, and squeezed. Caroline felt her airway closing, her vision fading, her life slipping away.

And then, everything went black.

When Caroline woke up, she was in a hospital bed. She had a bandage on her forehead, and a brace on her neck. She saw her parents, and her best friend, standing next to her bed, looking relieved.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

"You were attacked by a homeless man," her father said, his voice trembling. "He broke into your apartment, and tried to strangle you."

Caroline felt a shiver run down her spine. She remembered the licked hand, and the yellow eyes, and the panting. She realized with horror that the dog was just a figment of her imagination, a symbol of her fears and insecurities. The real danger had been there all along, lurking in the shadows.

But she also felt a sense of gratitude, of appreciation, of love. She realized how lucky she was, to have survived such a traumatic experience. She realized how much she needed her family, and her friends, and her own strength, to overcome her fears.

And so, Caroline made a vow to herself. She would never take her safety for granted again. She would never let her guard down, or her courage falter. She would always be prepared, and vigilant, and resilient.

And if ever she felt scared, or alone, or helpless, she would remember the licked hand, and the yellow eyes, and the panting. She would remember how she overcame her fears, and fought back against the danger that had threatened her. She would remember that she was strong, and brave, and capable of surviving anything that life threw her way.

From that day on, Caroline made sure to always lock her doors and windows, and to keep a phone by her side. She also got a roommate, and a dog, to keep her company and protect her.

But most importantly, she never forgot the lesson she had learned: that sometimes, the greatest danger is not what we see, but what we imagine. And that the only way to overcome our fears is to face them head on, and to never give up hope.