Imperfect Life: Arc 8

Chapter 18

The very next night, Crys found herself bounding towards the stadium as a werewolf. She didn't feel like she could stay in her house again that night, worrying that Brandon might come back and try talking to her again. It terrified her, and she couldn't place why. Why did what he had said bother her so much? Why did his solemn words ring throughout her mind still? She didn't know. She wouldn't know. So instead of pondering alone in her house, at risk of hearing more heartbreak, she left for the stadium. When she got there, she slowly meandered her way into the central arena and looked around for a moment. The place looked just as withered as always. She didn't even know why she bothered looking around. She didn't really feel much of anything at the moment, so she laid down on the turf and stared directly up at the ceiling. It wasn't a very pretty sight, holes scattered about and clearly run down. It definitely didn't deserve the attention it was getting, but it served as a focal point for the lost werewolf.

Crys pondered more and more. She just couldn't shake what Brandon had said no matter how desperately she tried. It irked at her without fail. Just the fact that he even bothered to still care after so long... The longer Crys pondered, the more hollowed out she felt. Soon, she felt nothing but empty. It was left over from her night at the bell tower. Something in her had changed that night, leaving her much less panicked and much more apathetic to the world. She simply didn't care anymore, and it was because of this that she didn't notice the intruder who had just entered the stadium. For now, she was still wondering why Brandon would even care about her. Why should he? There was nothing left. She was a monster through and through. She had hurt him and everyone else. So why did he still care!?

As Crys kept thinking, the intruder, a rather burly man in a pair of dark brown khakis and a button down shirt, made his way slowly, and very carefully, to one of the seats that was still intact and kneeled down behind it. He cautiously took his rifle from his back and started to aim at his target who was still completely prone. As he fiddled with his rifle, small clicks and such could be heard.

Crys heard the clicking of the gun being pointed at her. She did nothing about it. She didn't even give a glance in the general direction. She just didn't care anymore.

The hunter perfected his aim on his target and put his finger on the trigger, but something bothered him. His prey didn't even acknowledge him. He knew he had done an expert job, as he always did, but even he couldn't have been this good for a target this close and with its hearing ability. In fact, as he looked at his prey through the sight of his rifle, he slowly started to notice that it looked more like his prey had already given up entirely, even before he had appeared. This wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all.

"Don't move." The hunter called out in a wild accent. It sounded like he had been all over the place with the way he talked.

"I wasn't planning on it." Crys grumbled back.

The hunter wasn't prepared for a response, much less a response like that. In fact, it shocked him a little. "I have your head perfectly in my sight." He called out, hoping for any sign of life from his prey.

Crys didn't even respond to that one.

The hunter was confused, now. Was this some sort of game? Was it a trick? Did she notice him long ago and already work out a way to escape him?

"Look, are you going to get it over with or what?" Crys said after growing rather impatient.

"I..." The hunter stuttered. This made absolutely no sense to him. This was The Werewolf? The mythical creature he had heard rumors of? This?

Crys kept minding her own business, feeling nothing but hollow. Why bother, she thought.

The hunter got up, but kept his rifle trained on The Werewolf. He slowly started to walk over to her, getting boldly close, only a few feet away.

Crys just turned her head to look at the hunter for a moment. He had stubble on his face. Dark eyes, dark hair. She didn't really care. She turned her head back to the uninteresting ceiling that was now getting more attention than it ever had.

"Is this some sort of ploy?" The hunter asked. "A trick?"

Crys shook her head no.

"Do you even care at all? About any of this?" The hunter continued in sheer bafflement.

"Nope." Crys said in a tone that was the definition of apathy.

The hunter took a moment to process this. "You're The Werewolf I've heard so many rumors about?" He exclaimed, almost angry. "You? Wh- Why, this is just pathetic!" Now he was angry. "I come here in search of this mythical werewolf, this strong creature of the night that manages to make grown men shriek in terror! But this! This is nothing but pathetic! It's outright sad!"

Crys just shrugged. She was never one to really live up to the hype anyways.

The hunter lowered his gun. He could clearly see that his prey wasn't much prey at all. It would've been like shooting a sitting duck or fish in a barrel. Trying to shoot a worm wriggling on the ground would have been more challenging than this!

"So are you going to kill me or what?" Crys asked, sounding flat out annoyed at this point, like this was just a minor inconvenience for her.

The hunter was stunned. He got out the starts to a few words, but he couldn't finish a single one of them. He just didn't know what to say. "I can't kill you." He finally said. "This isn't a hunt, it's a mercy killing at this point." He took a deep breath. "Look, Werewolf," he said, "I came here expecting something much more than... this. I expected a great foe, a hunt worthy to be my last, but all I found was a depressed animal who doesn't care whether she lives or dies... it actually saddens me."

Crys rolled her eyes. She wished he would just get on with it.

"Clearly, you are going through something terrible." The hunter continued. "I genuinely wish you well, Werewolf. I hope you find your strength again, and when you do, I'll come back, but for now... I hope you find some peace." With that, the hunter turned and walked away from his prize, heading for home.

Crys still didn't care. She just kept lying where she was. It took her a while, but eventually she decided to get up and head back home. At least there the floor was comfier.