You ain't on this gay shit. That minotaur may have pulloted your mind.... And body, but you're done. Done with everything.
You break away from the house. And start runing through the woods. You can hear your canine rescuer call out to you, but he doesn't go into chase. Running for what seems to be forever, you somehow find yourself at the docks, without encountering anymore fur fags. You hop on the next departing boat; surely trying to get pull in more tourists. It travels over the sea for what feels like weeks. You don't recall it taking this long to get to the island. Somehow you survive eating straps of leftover food the crew leaves behind, and living below deck. Finally, you reach the mainland. Before your ass gets caught, you sneak offboard, and drag yourself to your house.
When you get home. You reach under the doormat and pull out your spare keys. After unlocking the door you crawl through and shuffle slowly into your bedroom. As you approach your bed, drowsiness hits you like a truck. You collapse into your bed, and let the darkness take you. At least its over.