His bloodied fingers curled around the smooth gray bark of the tree. He peered at the long oblong objects that the man and woman were roasting above the pit of fire. He licked the saliva from his lips, an action that caused him to wince in pain. It smelled like meat. Pulled by his insistent hunger, he crept closer. A twig snapped below him, and he retreated like it had burned his bare feet.

“What was that?” the woman said with alarm. She was an attractive woman in her forties with her dark curly hair kept contained in a ponytail. Her face was devoid of makeup and had a sharpness to it.

“Goodness, Marie, if you’re going to jump at every sound, then why did you suggest camping?” asked the man, who wore a heavy tan jacket. His five o’clock shadow had flecks of gray around his chin. He was a burly man, with hair sprouting on his knuckles like wild weeds.

Marie turned her attention away from the sound and back to the man. “Well, I thought we could do something a little different. A week ago, a few nights out in the woods away from the kids sounded like the perfect getaway. Now, I’m not so sure.” She glanced around suspiciously. “I heard that there are coyotes out here.”

“Honey, there are no coyotes. It was probably just a bunny rabbit.” He chuckled at Marie’s paranoia.

Marie slapped him playfully on his tree branch arm. “I’m being serious, John. We should be careful.”

He pressed his lips on her cheek for a brief moment. “Relax, Marie. Let’s just enjoy being alone together.”

Her tense shoulders sunk a bit, melting slightly at his affections. “You’re right.” She looked back at the stick of meat they were still roasting. “Are these hotdogs done yet?”

The young man hiding in the woods touched his own lips. He had never seen a kiss before. These people looked kind. Perhaps he had nothing to fear. He sucked in a breath and decided to be daring. Maybe, just maybe, humans weren’t entirely cruel. Warily, he made his approach.

The woman known as Marie startled at the sight of him, while the man known as John stood in front of Marie protectively. “Who are you? What are you doing here? What do you want?”

The young man from the woods could not answer any of these questions, as he had not mastered the language. He knew that he must look horrifying though with the blood coming out of his torn off nails, the identical rows of broken stitches on each of his cheeks, his mangled midnight black hair that was sheared on one side, his bare and bloody feet, and not to mention the bloodied green smock that was his only clothes. He covered the stitches on his cheeks with his hands and tried to communicate even though it was excruciating to do so. “I… good… not… hurt… you.” His English needed a lot of work, but he hoped that it was enough to convey his harmlessness to them. He never wanted to hurt anyone. His body, mind, and soul were completely lacking any malicious intent, yet the people around him always seemed to get hurt. He shivered. It was getting cold and everything hurt.

John lowered his defenses slightly. Whatever was done to this young man was monstrous, but he didn’t seem to be a monster. “Christ, son. Are you alright? What happened to you?” Marie peered from behind her husband. Yes, the boy was terrifying, but there was no hatred in his bright eyes, only fear. In fact, he looked almost as scared of them as they were of him.

Marie pulled out her phone. They may be in the middle of the woods, but she could still get a signal. “I’m calling 911,” she said.

The young mutilated man jerked forward. “No!”

The middle-aged couple startled. John shifted his body, slightly shielding his wife. “Why not?” he said. “Are you in some kind of trouble?” His whole body tensed.

The young man nodded and covered his facial wounds in order to speak. “Yes… police… bad… doctors… bad. They… did… this.” He traced the broken stitches of his cheeks and held out his fingerless nails. Marie gasped when she saw the latter.

She turned to John. “Honey, we have to help him.”

He whispered back, but the young man could still hear him. “Marie, we don’t know anything about him. He could be dangerous.”

“We can at least give him food,” she whispered.

John was silent for a moment as he turned back to the young man. His eyes lingered on the smear of blood on the green smock. “Fine,” he said. He turned back to the young man and offered him the hot dog that he had been roasting. “Would you like some food?”

The young man nodded and crept closer, his steps wary and his eyes watchful. He worried that is was yet another trick. However, the blissful sensation of the warm fire caused him to lower his guard considerably. His shivering settled, and he reached for the smoking meat on the stick. He touched the meat directly and winced at the burn. “Careful, it’s hot,” said John. The young man nodded and slid the meat off of the stick. It smelled heavenly. He took a small bite and chewed slowly, testing out the substance. He moaned softly with pleasure.

Marie smiled. “It’s good, right?”

The young man’s eyes glowed yellow. The wounds on his cheeks opened fully. The couple realized in horror that these weren’t wounds at all, but two other mouths, complete with several rows of shark-like teeth. He devoured the meat using all three of his mouths. His moans morphed into guttural growls of primal pleasure. In seconds, he finished his meal and turned to the terrified couple. “More,” said a new voice that bellowed from deep within the young man.

John and Marie ran screaming. And the young watched them, saddened by their fear but unsurprised by it. No one wanted to help a monster.