Whumpee running as fast as they can, following familiar roads, not daring to look back, till they had run right through Caretakers front door and into their arms, pleading god he’s right behind me, please, please, don’t let him take me again-
Caretaker holds them close, promises that they were safe here, he was never going to lay a finger on them again.
They don’t mention that whumper had been dead for years. That reality sometimes slipped away from whumpee for hours at a time, that they would disappear, but they always came back.
They don’t mention the tracker tag they’d hidden in whumpees shoe, sewn into jackets, hidden in pockets, it was just for safety, in case Whumpee did ever get really lost. Well, lost in the more literal sense.
They’d tried to explain, when it first started happening, but Whumpee never believed them, and it would only make them more distressed. So they stopped, and played along, till Whumpee came back out from those memories.
Until then, they’d lock the doors, close the curtains, and hold whumpee on the couch, reassuring them that whumper would never, ever get them again.
Because what mattered was that Whumpee felt safe, and they could do that.