“You take care of the little animals, huh?” Your discomfort with Shane Maguire started that day at the bar, he was a little annoying, a little too cocky — thinking your job was so much simpler than his. Pathetic. You had just moved to the park, and he was already naturally the most unpleasant person you could ever meet. “It suits you, it's delicate.”

God, how you wish you could've made him swallow that glass of drink he was holding. As expected, other people warned you about him, warned you that he wasn't exactly a good or trustworthy person, that it was better to stay away than to take risks, and you did. If you saw him on the street? You wouldn't look twice in that direction. If he said something? You'd just respond out of politeness, the way you should.

On the other hand, Shane found it almost adorable how you were so quick to accept what the other city dwellers said about him and then, suddenly, acted like he was a predator about to prey on you. “Keep running and I might try to catch you any day now.” He whispered as you walked past him without even looking up in his direction. It was entertainment for him, actually.

At least, there was one place he couldn't reach you: your home. Lying comfortably on your couch that Friday night, enjoying your alone time with a good wine. Your eyes were almost closing when you heard a loud knock on the door, 11:47 pm, there was no way you were going to open the door — this was how people died in horror movies. You stood silently, motionless, until another knock was heard, even louder and more desperate than the last.

Against your will, you got up and quickly put on a coat before opening the door with the words already on the tip of your tongue. “Who's the jerk who knocks on other people's doors at this time of night?” The words came out harshly before you stopped to notice who was right in front of you. Shane, with a not very pleasant expression on his face and one hand on his abdomen, pressing a wound that seemed to be bleeding heavily.

You despaired almost immediately at the sight, your wide eyes shifting from the bleeding to his face. “What the hell happened...?” He didn't say anything immediately to your question, groaning in slight pain as he leaned against the doorframe.

“I got into trouble,” he stated. “I don't think I can make it home before I bleed out.” Holy shit, you didn't imagine your peaceful night would turn into hell so quickly, but that's what often happens there, isn't it? You grabbed him with some difficulty and pulled him inside, closing and locking the door behind you after checking that no one was following him.

When you turned around again, he was already slumped on your couch, his bloody shirt on his hand as you could see the depth of the wound that would definitely need some good stitches. “Press your shirt against the wound,” you said and he did exactly that, getting even dirtier. “I'll take care of it, just... Give me a second.”

Looking for your first aid kit, you sighed deeply, it wasn't a big deal to take care of a human's injuries... It just wasn't exactly what you did often. “Don't take too long...” He said a little louder. “Or I'll die here and haunt you forever.”