TW: Allusions of suicide
Emma wakes up the next day with a pounding headache and a dull pain in her stomach. She can't move from her spot on the floor even though her throat burns for water. She succumbs to the feeling of helplessness and drifts in and out on conciseness for most of the day.
When she finally stays awake long enough to sit up she wishes she was asleep again.
Once Emma drags herself up from her floor and to her bathroom, she lays back down on the cold tile. The feeling of her forehead placed flat down on it elicits a deep sigh of relief. She's disgusting and can feel the grime and dirt built up under her fingernails. Suddenly a bitter taste rises in her mouth and she turns her head to the side just in time to throw up onto the floor.
She tries to push herself up onto her elbows only to give up and lay back down in her own vomit. Somehow the bathroom has never been so hot, yet cold, at the same time. She falls back asleep there for some time, and when she finally awakens the sun is starting to dip down.
She's starting to feel a bit better than before, but the puke clinging her body isn't doing her any favors. After several inner-motivation speeches, she manages her way to the sink to wash it off. She has to sit down as soon as she's done and take a few breaths.
Emma eyes the shower next to her before settling on a bath. The moment the steam hits her face she gags and flips the tap to cold. She settles into the lukewarm tub and lays her head against the cold porcelain. This must be what people mean when they say they're never drinking again. They never mean it, though. She doesn't mean it either.
She stays in the bath until the temperature has dipped well below room temperature and seems to be absorbing the chill from outside. Her skin is uncomfortably pruned. She wraps herself in an old scratchy towel and returns to her spot on the floor that she had crawled out of. She burrows herself down into the warm quilt.
The sun starts to go down and she can't fall back asleep, bothered by the constant pounding vibrations in her head. She doesn't want to think about it- about how fucking stupid she was. "Last night was a mistake" has never been more of an understatement.
Emma can't remember what was going through Last Night Emma's head when she made these choices. She must have slipped into some strange alternate universe where when mistakes are made they multiply like the Hydra.
For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Emma knew exactly what would happen after last night, she understood chemistry. The ecstasy had drained her already low amount of serotonin and now it would be a while before they were replenished. In the back of her mind, she worries that maybe they won't come back. That maybe she's wasted all her serotonin on one night and now will be not only ashamed but also serotonin-less.
Ashamed is also an understatement, everything is an understatement. There are no words known that could equate to the emotions she was shouting in her head. Her inner monologue is just screaming into the void.
When she finally thinks her brain has relaxed and might let her sleep something rocks through her. It hits her again how unbelievably dumb she had been. Her chest catches and small "hmphs" come from her throat all on their own. Then she gives in.
She wants to cry so she does.
Tomorrow, she'll go back to school relive everything again. People knew what happened, of course, they did. It's a small town and half of it was at Scotty's last night. How do explain that people? She doesn't want to think about it much less explain it to her friends. And she'll be goddamn shocked if Roman hasn't already told someone. He always does.
But this is her. She thinks there's no way he could do that to her. But, then again, nothing seemed to matter much anymore. Reflecting on his past and potential behavior, Emma can't believe she was friends with someone like him. She now sees why most of her friends didn't understand why she was friends with him.
These behaviors- they're not new. This is how he's always behaved and always will, she tells herself. How could she have just looked past it? Roman Godfrey had been hurtful to so many people and she has ignored it because she was different. And now she's seething at the thought.
But as fast as the anger came it flees.
It's her fault. She had known who he was and had ignored it. She should've known better. What kind of insensitive person would ignore all of those things? She's stupid, so, so, fucking stupid. There's no amount of drugs or alcohol that could or should make a person forget everything he had done to her- everything she had seen him do to others.
She didn't see it because she didn't want to. She didn't care.
Emma doesn't know what's hurting the most, but whatever it is, it sends a shiver down her spine. It's dark out now and she isn't sure how long it's been that way. Time doesn't make much sense to her now. Are the days too long or too short? She can't tell. There's so much silence.
She'd take the night time silence over what she imagines is coming for her this week. Maybe everyone will just let it go. She knows Ally will ask, but she would do so privately. It would be a good opportunity to tell someone the whole truth, but she's in too deep. She's embarrassed to even admit it to herself, but she wishes someone knew. That, somehow, someone figured it out. She doesn't want to be the one to tell them.
Buried deep under blankets, Emma rolls over onto her back. She rubs her eyes and wishes they would stay closed. She knows what she's feeling isn't okay, but it's like freezing to death. If you succumb to it long enough you start to feel warm. She starts to consider taking that walk through the woods.
There's no guarantee anything would happen. It seemed like the attacks were sporadic and not frequent enough to put her at a favorable chance. It would be a big deal if something happened to her, though. People would be sad, maybe Roman would feel bad. But probably not. Every single thought gets washed out by her mother. She couldn't hurt her like that.
The thoughts of barren trees at night and sleeping pills lull her to sleep.
Sometime later in the evening, Emma shoots up from her place on the floor, dripping sweat, heart pounding. The same three dreams. It's always one of them or no dream at all. The horses, the hole, and the room.
The room is her worst. She's in a padded room with a few windows that reveal the night sky. There's one door, but somehow Emma knows it's locked. She sits on one side of the room, and directly across from her sits Roman.
Nothing happens. He doesn't touch her, doesn't move, but can feel so much in the atmosphere. Irate, pain, disgust. Silent diatribes radiating loudly from both of them. She wakes up at the same point in the dream every time. Roman will stand a walk towards her. He kneels in front of her and lifts her chin. Then she wakes up.
She doesn't know why it terrifies her so much. She just knows that something is very wrong. Even after finally calming down sleep won't come.
_____________
"Sup?" Peter says and he opens the car door and slides in. Roman slowly moves his head towards him and nods. His sunglasses and tinted a seemingly impossibly dark shade of black. "You good?"
"Hungover," Roman groans, voice husky and rough. "Got a pit stop first."
"Oh," Peter reaches down to the floorboard, "did you fuck someone where I'm sitting?"
"Huh?" Roman turns to see Peter holding onto a thong by the tips of his fingers. "I would put those back unless you want to touch my semen." In one quick flash and a sound of disgust, they are back in the floor.
"Gross!" Peter whispers to himself. He looks up as the barren trees slowly transition into the outskirts of the city center. "Where are we going?"
"Letha's."
"Letha's?" Peter asks a bit louder, shocked that Roman is taking him anywhere near her.
"Shhh, hangover," Roman reminds him. "She has the file."
They arrive at the other side, the normal side, of Godfrey family's house and knock on the door. "It's open," they hear Letha's muffled voice through the door. Roman, still wearing his sunglasses, opens it and walks in first. Peter follows in slowly and stands behind him.
"It shouldn't be," he tells her sternly.
"It's broad daylight!"
"It's dangerous," he corrects her.
"Sorry, Dad." She rolls her eyes.
"Where's the stuff?" He crosses his arms.
"Roman," Letha smiles to him sweetly, "will you go upstairs and get it?"
"Why can't you?"
"I'm pregnant and my ankles hurt," she explains in an exaggerated voice. "Please?" Roman huffs and heads upstairs. She knew he could never say no to her, despite his bratty demeanor. Letha quickly waves Peter over to her place on the couch. Behind the pillow next to her in a small white envelope. "I found this in my dad's office. Don't tell Roman," she whispers and glances at the stairs to make sure Roman isn't coming.
"What is it?" Peter takes it from her.
"It's my uncle's suicide note." Peter looks at her in disbelief and confusion, but before he can ask any more questions they can hear Roman coming downstairs. He puts the envelope inside his jacket. "We'll talk tomorrow," she mouths to Peter.
"Well, we've got to be on our way," Roman waves the file. "Got some business to attend to."
"Don't do anything stupid," Letha warns the boys.
"I never do." She rolls her eyes at the lie.
"Come along, Pete," Roman waves him towards the door. Peter shoots her a look before following. Whatever is in this note she sure thinks it's important.
_____________
"What am I supposed to do with this?" Destiny asks, waving the file carelessly in the air. She's sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table.
"I don't know, voodoo shit?" Roman suggests.
"I don't do voodoo shit," she gives him a look. "I'm not some all-knowing, powerful, source of information. I can do some shit, but this? This is nothing."
"So you're telling me we begged Letha for nothing?" Peter sits on the couch and puts his face in his hands.
"I mean, I can read it?"
"If only we could do that ourselves," Roman mumbles sarcastically and takes a seat next to Peter. "This guy is having some sort of mental fuck up over this."
"I think that's a pretty normal reaction," Destiny says, amazed at Roman's ignorance. "The guy saw a vargulf kill a girl. That shit's pretty spooky to the normal human population."
"It's one thing to be fucked up," Peter starts, "but this guy is running around talking about a dragon and stuff."
"I'm sorry guys, I think this might just be a dead-end," she shrugs.
"So that's it?" Roman stands abruptly. "There's nothing else to do?"
"I didn't say that," Destiny sighs, growing impatient with the boy. Roman Godfrey really knew how to push her buttons, but that was in his nature.
"Then what?" Peter asks. "What do we do?"
"Keep fucking looking, what do you think?" She puts her hands up in defeat. "Learn how to hunt a predator? I told you to run when you had the chance."
"You know I can't," Peter looks at her sadly.
"It's not too late to give up," Destiny reminds the boys. "This doesn't have to be your fight."
"Everyone thinks I'm killing them! That I'm doing this!"
"But you're not, and there's not even a drop of proof that you are. You think these fuckers would be able to arrest you? What's their claim? They can't tell a court they believe in werewolves!"
"People are dying, Des!"
"Peter's right," Roman chimes in. "People are dying, we can't just not do anything about it." Destiny has to bite back a snarl. She really fucking hates this kid. He' a hypocrite. She knows he doesn't know it yet, but one day people will die at his hand. He'll be the monster.
_____________
Roman drives them a few towns over where no one will see them. The last thing they need is to be caught. He parks his car in some dingy gravel lot in front of a brick building. The boys sigh and unbuckle their seatbelts. "You sure we should do this?" Peter asks. Roman nods in response and steps out the car.
A bell above the door rings when Roman pushes it open. The boys are met with the dusty, dingy smell of old wood paneling. There are only a few men in the room but they all stop to stare at them. "Can I help you, boys?" A man behind the counter asks suspiciously.
"We want to learn about hunting," Roman says to the burly man. He walks to the counter and puts an arm on it.
"This isn't some Brokeback Mountain shit, right?" The man tries to joke but gets no response. "Well, what kind of hunting? It might not be in season yet."
"We want to know about hunting a predator, like a coyote," Roman explains. "It's for a school project."
"Well," the man scratches his beard. "You're not actually hunting an animal, right?" The boys shake their heads no. "Good, because this is dangerous stuff," he looks the seemingly weak-looking boys over once more. There's no way these two boys would go hunting. "I don't hunt coyotes, I like deer... But I'd say first you'd wanna collect whatever information you could. What does it eat? When does it mate? How does it hunt? Basic knowledge like that."
"Then what?" Peter asks quietly.
"Then you set a trap. You've got three options: you can get 'em with hunger, territory, or their libido. It's best to hunt in pairs, cover more ground that way. Some people like to train hounds, never done it myself. I would use a fox call, though."
"Fox call?" Roman asks.
"Yeah, don't let the name full you, it'll get a dogs attention."
_____________
"How the fuck was that helpful," Peter slams his fist onto the dash as Roman shuts his own door.
"Hey!" Roman grabs his arms. "It's vintage," He rubs the dash and Peter mumbles out an apology. "It was something, I guess. He told us how to lure it in."
"A coyote, Roman," Peter gives him a crazed look. "Not a vargulf, a goddamn coyote."
"It's still useful."
"I told you, that thing doesn't care about eating, or fucking, and it's not territorial. It's angry There's nothing to do."
"What about the fox call?" Roman says slowly.
"What about it?"
"Well," he cocks his head to the side and lets out a small grin, "we have our own living, breathing dog call."
A/N
Hey guys! Thank you so much for reading and I hope you're enjoying. After the last chapter we made it to #4 on the Roman Godfrey tag and #7 on Bill Skarsgård so that was pretty cool!!!
As always comments are welcomed and appreciated! I would love opinions on the pacing of the story. Specifically do you like the character aspect of it or should I cut to the chase?
Also, Would anyone want a song list of like what the chapter titles are and stuff/what I listen to when I'm getting in the writing zone? I don't want to include it unless y'all want it.