I wish it wasn't so damn hot in here. And maybe the fire listened, for it cracked a bit harder in protest, the hearth pulsing with the faint light.
For a moment, your eyes seemed to mirror it. A cold, empty shell, pretending to be alive.
Cold, unforgivable air slid through the open window and the cozy shack seemed to pause and breath. I clutched the red cape enveloping me, the unbearable mantle you forced onto my tiny body and wrecked mind all those years ago.
"The greatest honor of our family", you used to say. Now that it was dripping with your blood, I wonder what would you think of it. Probably that it was an honor to find your end this way.
It was an honor to let me hunt or die in the woods, even as I starved and struggled not to get bitten. An honor to be kept chained in the dark basement with no more than rats and noises for a company. To have salt pressed on my wounds whenever I made a mistake. Whenever I dared to speak. Or cry. Or breath in the wrong way.
Oh, dear grandma... Was it a sin to admit it was joy what I felt when I pulled the trigger?
A sudden blow of freezing air brought the fire to waste away, along with my twisted memories.
And as the door crept open behind me, as I clutched at the gun on my bloodied hands, heavy footsteps approached, making the floor creak.
"So? Did you finish your duty?"
His guttural voice filled the room with unnerving stillness. A space waiting for what came next.
"Yes" I said, turning to face the harsh glint of yellow eyes slicing the darkness in my direction. I eyed his giant form one last time before I took his claws on my hand and started for the ajar door.
"It was an honor".