I close my laptop and stretch, finally done with the work I let pile up. This has never happened before; my voicemail is filled with messages from my team asking after me. I should feel bad, but I'm too preoccupied to really care.
Standing outside my mother's door, I brace myself. My first encounter with her as a werewolf, I thought she had lost her mind; she wouldn't stop acting like a dog. It was only when night fell that I understood why. She's not as dangerous during the day, but a part of me is still nervous around her. Inside, she's kneeling on the bed, thrashing a pillow.
"Put the pillow down," I say with an authority I don't feel. "Now."
She growls, baring her teeth. A shiver of fear runs down my spine. I clench my jaw against it. Grabbing the pillow, I try to pull it away from her. She resists, tugging on it with enough force that I worry my arm might rip off.
"Let it go!" I say, finally freeing it from her grasp. I had thought about getting her some dog toys, but I gave her some old sweaters instead; they didn't even last a day. "We should play in the back today." She growls, not moving from the bed. I wave toward the yard, hoping she'll understand."Outside."
The growling stops. Progress.
As I watch my mother circle the yard, sniffing everything, I think about what I should read to her today. At first, reading to her was getting some response--her eyes would light up at certain parts and her mouth would twitch like she wanted to say something--but those reactions quickly faded. It's frustrating, but I have to keep trying. If it worked once, it can work again. Right?
She goes after a squirrel, chasing it back to its nest. Though it's hard seeing her like this, I can't look away. As a werewolf, nothing about her reminds me of her old self and that scares me. How could she be something so violent? No matter how hard I search my memories, I can't remember a time my mother was particularly furious. Upset maybe, but angry enough to destroy things? Never. I watch her hunt around the yard for something to kill and curse under my breath. I forgot to order groceries.
"Margret," Kim says when I call. From his tone, I know he has something to say. Probably about how I've been ignoring his calls again.
"Can you do me a favor?" I say before he can speak. "I need to pick up some groceries, but I'm a little busy at the moment."
"Doing what?" My mother digs in the garden, destroying the flowers.
"Taking care of my mom."
"Can't you take her with you?"
"It's not a great idea for her to be around people right now." I hold the phone away from me as she gnaws on the water hose. "Don't chew on that!"
"Margret?"
"Can you do it or not?" My steps falter when she growls at me, but I keep walking.
"Sure," he says with a sigh.
"I'll send you the list after I order it." I tug at the hose. "Double check the order when you pick it up."
"Alright. I'll call when I'm on my way."
I hang up and distract her with a stick.
"Fetch!" I shout, throwing it as far as I can.
After ordering the groceries, I try my best to tire my mother out with something like fetch where I throw every stick I can find and she chases it. When Kim arrives, I use the last package of ground beef to lure her into her room before he rings the bell. She's barking when I answer the door.
"You can leave the rest at the door," I say grabbing the bags he hands me.
"You sure?"
"Yeah." I glance at my mother's bedroom door.
"Have it your way," he says, bringing the last of them. He lingers. "How's your mother?"
"Fine." Loud bangs mix in with the barking. She must be throwing herself at the door.
"Do you have a dog in there?"
"It's the T.V. Thanks for doing this. I promise to make it up to you." I smile, praying he'll go away before she takes the door down.
"Anytime." He studies my face. "I'm worried about you."
"I'm okay, Kim. Really."
"You have dark circles."
"You know me. Too much work, not enough sleep." Please just leave. I bite my cheek to keep from saying it out loud. "Don't worry."
"Maybe I wouldn't if you'd answer your phone." He sighs. "Bye, Margret."
As soon as he pulls out of the driveway, I run to my mother's door. A cold sweat trickles down my back when I see the damage. One or two more hits and she would have been tearing Kim's face apart. I get her to stop ramming the door, but the barking continues. I give up and bring in the rest of the bags.
When she's calmer, I read The Little Red Riding Hood to her. My mother is a big fan of irony and I had hoped the story would bring something out of her. I glance over to where she sits in the corner of the living room. Nothing. Not even a little bit of recognition. I resist the urge to throw the book. Grabbing a couple of packages of chicken, I lure her into the shack outside before the sun fully sets. It's the best place to keep her when she changes. The first time she changed, it was through pure luck and adrenaline that I had managed to trap her inside before she could tear into me.
As I lock the shack up, I can hear her cries of pain as her body changes. My arms and legs shake. Adrenaline courses through my veins. More than the fear settling in my gut, I keenly feel the loss of my mother. I leave before she catches my scent.
YOU ARE READING
The Pain You Hide
General Fiction"All the stories I tell you are real," she whispered. "I just listen to what the characters have to say.." "You're lying!" I shouted I was so shocked. "It's true, but you don't have to believe me. Just know that if you believe in something hard enou...
