Werewolf Compilations

Chapter 121

Theodore takes me all the way to the front door and I say 'goodnight' and 'thank you' before he leaves.

The house is empty, Gail and Theresa being gone by now. I've never liked the feeling of an empty

house because it feels eerily full when I'm the only one home. All of the stray bumps and creeks spook

me like a child. When I was younger, and when my mother would be gone at night, I would stay strictly

in my bedroom with the door shut. Every light would be on in my safe space because for some reason

children think lights can save them.

I make my way upstairs and struggle with the zipper of my dress, twisting my arm around and pulling

down, frustrated and exhausted. It eventually gives in and I abandon it on the floor, a black puddle for

me to accidentally step in later.

I groan and slip on a pair of pajamas before crashing to the bed, too lazy to do anything else. I stretch

out like a cat, letting the blankets absorb me fully, pulling the edge to my chin. All is well and I drift off

within minutes, expecting to wake up when James gets home. Sounds prod at my sleeping head, but

nothing wakes me, not until I hear the bedroom door open.

The scent fogs my mind and I struggle to get up, feeling like my body weighs ten times heavier than

normal. "James?" I croak.

Everything is quite a blur until I am yanked up by my arm. Like being splashed with water, I panic into a

state of alertness, my heart shooting forward along with my body. The grip is tight and unfamiliar, yet

the scent grows familiar so I look up. It looks like James, but some odd version of him. My eyes

struggle to focus and everything seems to vibrate. It takes a second or two until I realize it's his father,

but by then he's forcing me to my feet.

My legs refuse to work along with my head, but his father doesn't stop.

"What are—What are you doing here? What are you doing?" I grumble, regaining my body back.

"James isn't here."

He attempts to take me into the bathroom, but I hold back. "James isn't here," I say again, my

conscience returning. "You need to leave, now."

His father is rushed with his movements and he grabs me again, jerking me into the bathroom and

letting me fall to the tiled floor. Nearly hitting my head on the bathtub, I frantically attempt to get up, but

he pushes me back down then grabs something out of his pocket. I catch I glimpse of the blade and my

heart plummets, screams leaving me as soon as I can muster. He blocks my sudden run to the door,

wrapping his arms around me. I kick and kick and try to break free, blood rushing to my face.

Hot tears stream down my flushed cheeks as he shuffles towards the tub. My throat is dry and strained

but the cries and screams continue to erupt from within, bringing him to tighten his hold each time.

He pulls me into the tub with him. My feet shoot up and down, my heels hitting the porcelain, and I try

to make as much noise as possible. James' father's hand covers my mouth, his nails digging into my

skin, and his other holds up the thin blade. Not letting him get ahold of my arms, I keep moving. "We're

gonna have to do this the hard way, huh?" He grunts, his hand falling from my mouth for only his arm to

wrap around my neck. The hold isn't too hard, but I still can't breathe, and I know it's because he

doesn't want to leave a dark mark. Tears continuously fall, and the panic grows into a dense cloud

around me, suffocating me.

"You didn't finish the diary, did you?" He says near my ear, my face turning a deeper red. My hands

claw at his arm and the logic for survival settles in, my animalistic side taking over my brain. As he

wants, I go limp. After a few seconds, he lets go and I fight my body to not take a deep breath or

cough. I don't last long though, and I spring to life, managing to slip from his grasp. Scrambling from

the tub, I land hard on my side, my hip already feeling bruised. My head is heavy and my throat is tight,

but I crawl for the door and tug on the handle, falling with it as it opens.

He's quick to grab my legs, but I look back and kick again, causing him to lose his hold. I get a good

shot at his chest and he lets out a violent cough.

Sweat rolls down my forehead and I get to my feet, running down the hall as I cry out. It's an inaudible

mix of 'help' and 'James', but the ground seems to wave and my head becomes dense with a harsh

dizziness, the pressure pushing me down the stairs. I slide down and cry out again, this time from the

extra hits on my hip. My hair sticks to my face, and I scratch it away and I struggle to get up.

James' fathers pounding footsteps become louder and louder, and I contemplate running to the kitchen

for a knife or running for the front door. Knowing that I have to shift, I dash for the door and manage to

get my hand on the handle, but he grabs my hair. I yelp and whine as he pulls me back, my hair

knotted around his fingers. He attempts to wrap his arm around my neck again, but I quickly duck, my

hair ripping out. In a flash, the handle is mine again and I yank the door open, hitting him and sprinting

for my life. With my hip screaming, I glance back and glance back, only hearing my heavy breaths as I

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The last thing I see before shifting and running into the woods is a large wolf tackling his father to the

ground. All the movements blend into one blur, but I swear that his father stopped moving. I swear the

man is dead in the grass, facing the moon.

The Goddess stares down at him.

The truth follows me, and I cannot comprehend anything that has just happened. His voice plays over

and over in my head, 'you didn't finish the diary, did you?'

I bury myself in the trees and I don't look back again.