After Being Bitten to Death by a Fox I Was Reborn – Chapter 8
Evicted, Jack and Emily returned to the old house.
Emily texted every day, from arrogance to groveling, amusing me.
She even tried using Linda to “talk some sense into me”.
I treated it like a joke.
One night, she texted: “The fox is back.”
My sleepy mind snapped awake. I sat up, replying, “How do you know?”
No response.
I opened the old house’s camera feed, installed before we moved.
Only the main room had one.
Emily was sitting on the bed, staring blankly out the window, as if something terrifying was lurking outside.
I turned up the volume.
Heh heh heh heh.
The familiar cackle sent chill down my spine.
I gripped my baby’s crib tight, staring at the screen.
The window Emily faced was pitch-black.
As I moved to adjust the camera, a knock came from their door.
Thump, thump-thump, thump-thump-thump.
The bear!
Bears mimic how human knocks. If she opened that door opened, Emily would be gutted, tortured to death like me a lifetime ago.
I held my breath, fingers tightening around my phone, momentarily forgetting we that weren’t in the same place.
“Who’s there?” Emily’s voice trembled.
She grabbed a fruit knife, moving toward the door slowly.
“It’s me! Open the door!”
Jack, not the bear?
Emily’s shoulders relaxed, unlocking the door without hesitation.
“Why so late—ah!”
A massive shadow lunged at her, pinning her down.
Jack fell, panicking. “Don’t eat me! Help!”
He crawled toward the door, but twitched suddenly and went silent.
The bear turned to him, dragging him back by his leg. I saw the fox’s head by Jack’s neck, its teeth sunk into his artery.
Blood gushed as it pulled free.
The fox looked up, as if sensing the camera, its green eyes locking onto me.
A chill hit me.
As I looked away, it turned, joining the bear to feast.
Wild beasts torture prey cruelly, especially bears.
They don’t kill their victims outright, instead they enjoy the process, they would start eating from the belly or limbs, letting the prey watch itself be consumed alive.
A lifetime ago, the fox and bear killed me this way.
The bear mimicked knocking, the fox slipped into the funeral parlor.
As the door opened, they pounced, taking Mark and me down.
I wanted to leap into the screen now with a knife to slaughter them.
Jack and Emily’s prolonged torment eased my resentment.
A lifetime ago, their schemes killed me. This life, they reaped what they sowed.
When Jack brought the fox home, Emily, knowing fully well that I disliked it, fawned over it in front of me, bringing it over every day and telling it I hated it.
Jack backed her, warning the fox to avoid me or risk its own death.
I didn’t care, seeing it as just an animal, no different from a cat or dog.
Since I wasn’t the one raising it, their words didn’t affect me even the slightest.
But I hadn’t expected that, hearing about the demolition, they’d plot to kill me.
They sent the fox to lurk near my house at night, mimicking women’s and children’s cries to torment me mentally.
They even hired a fortune-teller to claim the house’s aura would harm my baby, urging me to give the bigger house to them, as theirs could tackle it.
Learning that the fox could understand human speech, they took it to the hospital, ordering it to kill my son.
Piecing it all together, I was certain they were behind the attack on the funeral.
How else could a bear move from the woods to the graveyard undetected?
They wanted our whole family dead to claim all the demolition money!
I watched the feed on my phone until the fox and bear, with their bellies full, lay down.
Then I called the police.
They arrived, shooting the bear dead. The fox took a bullet but escaped.
Not finding it kept me on edge.
It was too vengeful and too cunning.
Who could say it wouldn’t blame us? I couldn’t bear losing my family again.
To evade it, I packed the next day, taking Mark, Linda, and our son on a trip.
We toured the country’s wonders, seeing sights we’d missed.
But the fox’s escape left me feeling like a blade is hanging over me every day.
I never stayed anywhere long.
Thankfully, Mark, Linda, and our son enjoyed the trip.
Linda, who’d never left the state, smiled more, her spirit brighter. Mark and I were genuinely happy for her.
“Fox… fox…”
My son pointed at a pelt on a nearby stall.
I froze, my heart leapt wildly.
My neck stiffened like rusted gears.
Mark followed his finger, chuckling, “Yep, that’s fox fur.”
As we left, I glanced back.
The reddish-brown pelt bore a distinct scar—at exactly where the fox was shot.
I exhaled.
The nightmare was finally over.