The Wolves

Chapter 8

ONE YEAR LATER

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Once again I sit in Leila's tiny ward room, taking in the details that I know like the back of my hand.

I look around me and stare at the overly familiar walls of the hospital. Four white bland looking walls stare back at me with no emotion, a small desk and chair is neatly positioned in the corner with a silent nurse stationed patiently behind it's wooden exterior. A tiny window is stationed on the far wall, revealing the vast city ahead, at night lights from the outside world shimmer and sparkle warmly into the room like little fairy lights. The roof is white, tinged blue with boring LED lights clinging onto it's rough surface. The floor isn't that much better either. Strange vomit colourised splatters are vaguely visible on the hard lino floor. My mind flashes back to my vomiting all over the bed.

-Cringe-

Leila lies infront of me, dormant, lifeless. The coma just carries on and on.  She actually doesn't have leukaemia, the only reason they thought she did was because of some mix up in blood tests. I think that's really disorganized.

I stand up quietly and kiss the top of Leila's head, her hair is matted on the top of her head and greasy, she breaths calmly letting a rhythm flow through her nostrils. Her beauty is unnoticed and forgotten. I wonder if she can hear me?

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The night drifts on along with the silent golden moon.

11:02 p.m.

She'll be here soon.

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The trees are tall and shaggy as I pick my way down the old and gnarly path just outside of my tiny cottage, the burns and ruins have been repaired. It looks nearly the same. Only my scars remain.

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12:00 p.m.

I've got one minute to run.

But run where?

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12:01 p.m.

Let the fun begin.

"Hello darling." her voice rings through the air like ice and fire mixed together, boiling hot, yet, so cold. So, so cold.

"What do you want today?"  I hiss through clenched teeth, she laughs.

"You mean tonight. Actually I have a little task. It will save Leila. It will ... wake her ... up."

My breath catches in my lungs and my head spins. Wake her up? Wake her ... up? I sigh and straighten my shoulders.

"Okay. Tell me your task."

Her soft laughter fills the small bramble covered space. I shiver and shake.

"It's quite simple. Haha very simple. I want you to murder the librarian. As a wolf."

I gasp and take a step back. Blackberry brambles dig their unwelcome claws into my back and I arch in pain.

 "Why? Why do want me to kill Ms.Thinke? Why? You never ask me to do anything! Every night at 12:01p.m. you always visit me. You always tell me about how you've twisted my future! You don't seem to do anything else and now you do this? What the heck?"

The girl in the red velvet dress steps out of the black shadows and caresses my face lightly with one hand, with the other she pulls out a quill pen and presses the sharp point hastily into my skin. The ink is dark red but I'm pretty sure it's my blood not ink. I don't pull away instead I watch what she's writing.

M....

MI....

MIN......

MINE.

I glar up at her and yank my arm away.

"I AM NOT YOURS!" I cry rubbing the bleeding wound, blood leaks through my fingers and drips slowly onto the dry clay ground. Everything is silent.

"You say that you are not mine." The girl whispers fiercely at me, "You say you are not mine, but if you think about it, are you free? Are you? Are you really?"

I stand still... Stiff as well.

"What do you mean?"

I already know exactly what she means. The strange girl in the strange dress has watched me and followed me for the last year and a quarter, she owns me, she controls me.

And we both know it.

"We both know the answer..." she snarls like a feral dog, "Oh! And remember..."

I gulp.

"Kill... the... librarian."

And then she leaves.

Just like that.

Like I was never in her company.

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I stand there for a few minutes before sitting down and gingerly prodding the tattooed words pierced painfully into my arm skin.

I nearly have a heart attack when I feel the plump soft skin of a scar replacing the open, gaping scratch. I prod it again wondering if I'm imagining things.

Nope, definitely a scar. I run my fingers over the smooth skin, taking in it's strange complexions.

I stare up at my surroundings, I've come here more than 50 times but never taken in any of it.

Mountains of bramble bush surround the tiny clearing pointing their tiny thorns in all directions, Pine trees are scrambled around the area as well, they look tall and mysterious in the half light.

Hard dirt is packed hard on the ground, I pick away at the dirt for awhile and fiddle with the loose pieces of dry clay.

I dig my finger deeper into the dirt.

My fingers hits a rock.

"Stupid rock!" I cry yanking my finger out and holding it tightly.

 After what seems to be an hour my finger finally recovers and I can start to pry away at the dirt once more. Because this time I know where the rock is, I careful scrape away the dirt around it.

It takes awhile but soon I can see the stone, it's huge! And really shiny, it glows eerily in the moonlight, reflections bounce of its hard metallic surface an dim patterns are woven into the  hard expanse. I gasp and then start shovelling dirt back on top of it.

I know what the mysterious thing is.

It's a door.

A trap door.

And tomorrow...

I'm opening it.