The Wolf in Disguise

Rudolfo jolted awake, trembling in terror. He sat up at once, his long limbs freezing from his sweat evaporating in the cool air of the house. His dark brows puckered as his eyes shot around the room, trying to identify the source of his anxiety and failing.

He thought he had heard someone screaming...but it must have been part of the nightmare.

There was dismal gray light streaming through his bedroom window, piercing his eyes like needles. He raised a hand to his head, wondering why it hurt so much. Had he been drinking? He couldn't remember, but was more worried about his grandmother finding out. She wouldn't be happy about him doing something that could ruin his football scholarship.

Saying a quick prayer, he got up to take a shower, being extra quiet so he didn't wake her up. Even though he was twenty now, she'd still tear his hide if she smelled liquor on him.

As he bathed he tried to remember the details of the night before. He had gone out with friends to celebrate...something. The last thing he could remember clearly were those damn skittles from Danny. Had they been spiked with acid or something?

It would explain the nightmare. That he remembered clearly. The fog, spilling like water through the forest...the cabin, seemingly abandoned...and that poor old woman. He shuddered as he dried off.

Only an acid-fueled dream could make him imagine that level of gore. He dressed quickly and told himself that the chill he felt was because of the rain.

Rudolfo eased down the stairs, careful to not make them squeak. Maybe if he made breakfast and cleaned up afterwards, his grandmother would be merciful about his late night.

"Too much party, not enough study," she would say in Spanglish, slapping him on one cheek while she kissed the other. He grinned at the thought, but the grin slid off of his face when he reached the bottom of the staircase. On the scarred hardwood floor there was a torn white robe, spattered with red.

"What...?" He breathed as he picked it up. He had dreamed of this robe. He threw it away from him with a cry, covering his mouth. There was no way that the robe was real. Yet, it was here. In his home.

"What did I do?" He grabbed the hair on either side of his head, pulling hard enough to tear out a few thick strands. "What do I do?" He argued with himself. There was no way he would've done such a terrible thing.

I help people, not hurt them. I couldn't have hurt that poor woman! But the proof was lying in front of him, the red spatters staring like accusatory eyes. You did it. You just don't remember because of the drugs, they seemed to say.

Tearing his gaze away from the robe that damned him, he spotted his cellphone in the kitchen. Lowering his hands, he realized that he had to do the right thing, the only thing that would make him able to sleep at night. He had to turn himself in.

Tears flowed down his face as he picked up the device and dialed the police. The conversation was brief as Rudolfo explained himself to the police dispatcher: He was a murderer, there was no other explanation. Hitting the end button, he set the phone back on the counter before sliding down and sitting on the floor.

He would never become a doctor. There would be no graduation day with his grandmother crying tears of pride. Now there would only be her tears of shame as she stared at him through thick Plexiglas. His life would now be a cold, concrete box that would slowly erode his soul. He sobbed as he waited for the officers to take him away.

When he heard footsteps, Rudolfo stood up. His shoulders slumped and his head hung as he held out his wrists for cuffs.

"That's a good look for you. Nice practice," a velvet smooth voice said. Rudolfo's head shot up. Slouched next to the front door was a girl. Her eyes were large ovals of mossy green, deep-set in a wan face of sharp angles. She wore a red coat over skinny jeans that were tucked into combat boots. Popping gum as she twirled her curly, russet red hair around a gloved finger, she couldn't be more than fifteen years old.

"W-Who are you? What are you doing here? How did you get in?" Rudolfo said. He wiped his hands down his face and blinked, but she was still standing there, as real as the house around him. He wasn't still tripping...

"Nevermind that, dimwit." She said, clomping toward him. "There's no time."

"No time?" He echoed, tilting his head in puzzlement.

"Nope. They'll be here soon, and this has to look good. Thanks for calling them for me, by the way." She tossed something out to him as she grew close. "Here."

Rudolfo reacted with the same instinct that made him a good receiver, catching the object before it landed on the floor. Opening his hands, he stared in horror at the bloody screwdriver he held before dropping it.

"What is this?" He yelled at the girl, wiping his hands on his shirt.

"My ticket to paradise." She said with a smirk on her face. "And your ticket to jail. Do not pass go, do not collect $200."

"Wh-what? I don't understand." He blinked at her, angry and puzzled by her nonchalance.

"God you're dumb. Ugh." The girl stared at him, wrinkling her nose. As she walked close enough to him to almost touch him, he could hear faint sirens coming from outside.

She began speaking again, her rapid-firing words making Rudolfo dizzy. "I can tell you this, because not a soul is going to believe you when this is all over. My name's Ginger. I live with my Grandma, who's a total bitch. Can't stand her. You stumbled into our cabin, buzzed up on something or another - who cares? Anyway, it was right on time. See, I had already trussed her up good, and made sure she was dead. I just needed a scapegoat. You screamed like a wuss and took off, but I followed you. You with me?"

She snapped her fingers in front of his nose. Satisfied with what she saw, Ginger continued. "So now we're here. The cops are coming. They're going to find the evidence I threw around your house, and you already touched the screwdriver. So, I'm set - you're screwed." She smiled wide, her blocky teeth gleaming as she held her hands out to either side like a game show hostess gone wrong.

"You're insane." Rudolfo whispered. "My grandmother will know that it's not true. She'll find a lawyer or something."

Ginger looked past him and snorted. "Oh! Her. Ha! Where do you think the screwdriver came from stupid? I'm glad she woke up and caught me. No witnesses is good." She laughed.

The full impact of Ginger's words hit Rudolfo with the weight of a world and filled him with flames.

"Puta!" He screamed, lunging for the girl and wrapping his hands around her throat, sirens going off in his head as he squeezed. Her smile never moved from her face as it turned deeper and deeper red.

She would pay. She would pay for what she did. Rudolfo never even heard the gunshot as the police entered the backdoor.