WILD WOLF
PART THIRTY FOUR: R.I.P
He slammed his head into my nose, my hand jerked across his throat, the wound wasn't deep. His fingers dug into my wrist, twisting it at a painful angle. The glass shard dropped onto the ground. He was up in seconds, wrenching the glass from his eye socket, his face was stained with blood, chest rising and falling quickly. He was blinded in one eye, the other couldn't contain his disbelief, his heartbreak, his rage over my attempt to end his life. I had betrayed him, he could hardly get his head around the last two minutes. "You tried to kill me?" it was a surreal idea, he was stunned.
I dusted my knees, rising to face him. I smiled, the action felt forced, cynical. "I wish I had." His wounds would heal in time, his eye would take longer than any other skin-deep cut. What wouldn't mend, would no longer fit together was his idea of me and the reality of me. I watched as he went through a cycle of emotions and feelings: I was going to be his wife, the woman to give him pups, share a home with, continue our bloodline...Not anymore. How was this possible?
"You hate me so much that you'd do that to me? No remorse?"
"None whatsoever."
"You hate me," he repeated. It was a startling revelation. An eye-opener (pardon the pun), he finally realised how I felt towards him. He was hurt. His gaze watered. Now I was surprised. He was crying. This macho man had been reduced to tears. "I ...I did this to you?"
"Angel," Cerberus placed a hand on his shoulder. "We should go, I'll take you to a doctor."
"Yes, you did," I wasn't going to sugar-coat the truth. "Shall I list the things you've done to me? Threatened to rape me, to tell my father of my activities, forced yourself on me, threatened to kill any lovers I take to bed–"
"That's enough!" Cerberus growled.
"Is it?" I laughed scornfully. "My God. You barely knew me and you put a claim to me. Nothing I would say would make you see sense. Women are not to be owned, they do not exist for your pleasure, they owe you nothing. You are not entitled to another's time, space, being. You are offended by my rejections, I am offended by the way you act towards women. You are scum and I don't pity you. I wish I had killed you."
"Myra–"
"Don't speak over me, don't you dare try to shut me down." I glowered at Cerberus. "Your silence in this is violence. You know what he's been doing is wrong but you sit back and turn the other cheek. I am not going to pat him on his head, tell him his mistakes don't make him, that it's okay. Because it's not. Own your faults, recognise them, realise how toxic this mentality you are in is, and change, wolf."
"There isn't a way I could convince you to–" Angel tried. His attempts were wretched, and quite frankly, embarrassing.
"Absolutely not. I have no interest in you. You'll find someone, though, and I hope you treat her well." I looked around the shop, picked up my clothes, hurriedly pushed my legs through my jeans. "The witch has escaped, let her leave. The mayor is not big on second chances, you'll be thrown out of town or executed. Be smart about your decisions. Make friends with the witches, give them reason to trust you, and then when the time is right, kill every one of them. They're hiding Margaret Chan and Morgan Gillis and we won't find them if we continue to act like savages. Put on an act and make it convincing."
I left the shop, closing the door after me. I was a ragged, bloody mess. People warily stared at me as I passed them. I paid them no attention. I was like a hound dog, sniffing urgently, searching for Cassandra's scent. I found her outside the mall, hobbling down a busy street. Humans were giving her a wide berth, gaping children were hurried along. She looked like a beaten, bruised piece of meat. I kept my distance, waiting until we reached a quieter road where no humans were around.
I quickened my pace, called out. "Hey."
She turned her hip, made an unintelligible noise, she was warning me to stay away.
"You don't trust me, I get it. But you're dying, you can't speak, let me help you. At least get you to a place where you can rest, be safe while I go get your family. You want them around, don't you?"
Her eyes were bloodshot. Her jaw unhinged, she dribbled down her chin, the blood was a blackish-red tint. She was trying to say something, it was a difficult task without her tongue.
"I don't understand," I took a step closer and when she didn't protest, reached her. "Can I help you?" I looked at her earnestly, trying to convey I wasn't an enemy.
She all but collapsed on me, leaning her weight on my shoulder. I guided her down a couple of streets, a human asked if we needed a lift to a hospital, I waved him away. We reached the opening of a dead-end alleyway. It was filthy. It smelt like a sewer. A restaurant used the place as a dumpster. Cassandra tried digging her heels in, frantic noises escaping her. Her efforts were unsuccessful.
I tugged her behind a steel, stained waste container. No one would see us behind it. She gazed up at me, sorrowful. Her stare exposed a broken spirit. She knew what was coming. Her breathing was shaky. Tears trekked down her cheeks.
I sat next to her on the cold ground. I drew my legs to my chest. I don't know what was wrong with me, I felt bad for her. It was guilt. The feeling clawed at me, gnarled hands scrabbling at the walls of my stomach, trying to tear a way through. "I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I...I'll be here, it won't be long." It was all I could offer her in the moment.
She was choking on her own blood. I didn't say anything else. The minutes were long. And then she slowed, bubbles of blood escaping her mouth, she was quieter. Her gagging and her cries were interrupted by gaps of silence, inaudible bursts of misery, of helplessness. She looked at me, opened her mouth one last time as if to say something, anything, and then she was dead. Her eyes became glassy, lifeless. Her body jittered, and finally, at long last, came to a stop.
I almost allowed myself a moment to think, to allow remorse and shame to battle with my demons but then I pushed my guilty conscience to the side, and got to my feet. I worked fast. It was difficult. It took me fifteen minutes to pull up the cover of the waste container, pulled out rotten, saggy wet bags of waste and then dump the witch inside, cover her with the bags and leave the scene. If we were lucky, she'd be taken to a disposal site, never to be found again. At the worst, we'd get a couple of weeks before she was discovered.
Whatever the outcome was, I didn't care anymore. I wanted to go home, take a bath and fix myself a drink. So I did just that, Cassandra and guilt left behind the waste container.
*
It was Wednesday night. I received a call from an unknown number.
"It's done," Eli's voice was gruff.
"You didn't kill her, did you?"
"No, she's alive. Currently on Moore St. I believe she's calling her father. Can you hear that?"
I listened intently. Her cries were distant, frantic. Silence stretched out between us. "You should leave before her father gets there."
"You didn't tell me she was pregnant."
"Would it have mattered if I had?"
It was his turn to swallow his tongue. "No," he admitted. The line went dead.
**
The same night, Mom yelled for me, I had a visitor at the front door.
Nana passed by me, Quinta in her arms. "I hope she's not a lesbian like you."
"I'm bisexual, there's a difference," I informed her. "And I like having men and women in my bed at the same time."
She gasped in horror. "Do you not respect yourself?"
"I do, actually. It's you that doesn't respect me or my choices," I said. "Now unless you'd like to hear us have loud lesbian sex, you should leave. We like to call each other dirty slut and fat tongue whore. Dirty talk is our foreplay. And we're exhibitionists."
Nana looked like she was going to have a heart attack. She hurried off. I could hear her shouting for Mom to no doubt tell her how disgusting I was. I snickered, opened the front door. My smile fell.
Jenny shifted uncomfortably. "Hey."
"Hey."
"Can I talk to you?" she blurted out. "Um. I broke up with Alissa and–"
"And what?" My face twisted into a cruel stare. "You thought you could come running back to me, should I comfort you? Pat your back, tell you everything's alright? Huh? I don't give a flying fuck, Jenny. You can come in, I wouldn't say no to sex but tears and snot? No, thanks. I'm done with pretending to care about you. I'll fuck you and that's as far as I will go with you."
"I wasn't–" she stepped back, scoffing softly. "Actually, you know what? I don't know what the hell I was thinking coming here. You won't even let me speak. I thought we could maybe go back to being civilised instead of glaring at each other in the hallways. But I must've lost my senses on the way over here, clearly I forgot what you are like. It's a mistake."
"You came here with the intent of getting me back," I took a step towards her. "Don't lie to me. You want someone to comfort you, someone who can challenge you, who won't bend over backwards like Alissa will. You like excitement. You love the thrill of being with me, it's a ride. Right? You cream yourself when you think of me, don't you? Here's the thing, Jenny, sweetheart, cherry pie, I want you to get the fuck off my property and hop-tail back to whatever shithole you crawled out from. I love a good fight, and you were – for some time – a conquest for me. I wanted to own you but I don't want someone's leftovers. Especially not Alissa's. You got that?"
Her face crumbled, she was upset. I reached for her jaw, pulling it down, and I mimicked in a high-pitched voice. "But, Myra, I love you–" it was childish, cruel. And I fucking loved it.
She jerked back. Tears sprung forth. "You're a bitch."
I groaned. "Can you go cry someplace else? My plants don't need any more watering today."
That was the last straw for Jenny. She finally understood that she'd been in love with this fictional idea of me that was so far from the truth, China could fill the gap. She left for the last time. Good riddance, I say.
***
do you have any questions ? the ending is coming soon.
1879 words 10/04/2016