Catharsis

TWENTY ONE

My hands pat frantically at the cinder block.

You're okay, you're okay, Aaron...I turn my back against the wall and look around at the room, panting. Empty and cold. The floor above vibrates slightly with a few footsteps. Kaman . . . No, you're not okay.

I hang my head. The dream sticks in my thoughts like gum on the bottom of a shoe. I try to peel the images out but fragments are left behind: my Dad's face, his mournful eyes, the smell of brats that makes my mouth water with hunger. That damn clawed hand: a werewolf hand. What a weird dream.

"Hey!" A voice says. It's a girl's voice. Am I sure I'm awake? I'm not going schizophrenic, am I?

"Hey!" it repeats and now I'm sure that it's real.

"Um. Hello?"

"I'm Emma. I'm going to help you and you're going to help me, got it?" Her words are serious, but her voice is melodious. It's coming through the wall opposite me. I creep toward the vent lying prone on the floor. Looking through the metal slats yields nothing but dim light and a shadow that blots most of it out.

"Me? Help you?" I grumble as I rub my eyes. "I could be outwitted by a tossed salad right now so you should probably leave your name and number -"

"Cut it out!" she snaps. "I help you, you help me. It's a symbiotic relationship."

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"It's a relationship between two organisms who -"

"Yeah, yeah, I know what symbiotic is. I mean, how are we supposed to help each other?"

"If the two of us team up, we can come up with some way to escape. It's the only way either of us is going to survive. I know Michael. He won't hesitate to kill you."

"Yeah? Well, he seems to have a vested interest in keeping me alive."

"Only until your other side takes over."

It's in my nature to deny this, especially to a stranger. "I don't know what you're talking -"

"Oh, cut the crap already! You can't seriously think that you could hide this from your next door neighbor, could you?"

"Well, I was sort of -"

"The point is: Michael has kept me down here for months, and you don't have months."

"Months? You can't be a werewolf then, right? So, what are you?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?" She sounds completely offended that I even asked. "I'm a human and so are you. I don't care what kind of crazy stuff Michael tells you; don't believe a single word he says. The lunatic wouldn't know humanity if it bit him in the ass."

"That doesn't really answer my question. If you think I'm human then you could be the Queen of England for all I know."

"I'm a human," she reiterates in a snarky tone. "And so are you. Why am I even arguing with you about this?"

I lean my ear against the vent and lower my voice. "So, if you're not like me, why are you here?"

"I'm here because I trespassed on his stupid property. Don't ask me why I was trespassing the first place because I won't tell you. The point is: Michael is trying to punish me. He thinks he's some kind of self-made vigilante or something." The words come out so fast and panicked I can hardly make any sense of them.

"Listen, Emma. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there's no way to escape, okay?"

"You're not even going to try?" she protests.

"I tried when I was out there and I took the consequence, too."

"You don't understand." I can hear the eye roll in her voice.

"I understand perfectly well. Unless you're the size of a fly and can get under the door, there's no way either of us is getting out of here."

"Fine. Then let's talk something bigger." She pauses. "Your alternate form. You turn into that creepy werewolf thing and break down the door or something."

"The door is too thick," I mutter and I hope she stops because I don't want to hear about an alternate form.

"Do you think you're not strong enough? Because I was here all day and night. You're pretty vicious. Couldn't get a thought in edgewise with all of the clawing and the howling."

"I am not vicious."

Her voice quiets as if she's telling me a secret. "I could hear your screams, you know."

"Stop it."

"Even when it was all over, and you were long gone, I could still hear your voice screaming behind all the snarling."

"I said stop!" I snap back and resist the urge to slam my palm into the vent for good measure. Instead, I squeeze it into a fist. "Please. What do you think? That this is fun for me? This is just a trip to fucking Disneyland? It's not! Okay? That thing isn't me, it's an animal, and it isn't going to help you."

There's a brief moment of silence.

"I didn't realize that this might be a hard subject for you. But you're going to have to get over that if you want to live."

I cover my face with my hands and take a deep breath, because this girl is getting on my last nerve. "Seriously?"

"I just know how this goes, alright? I know you're hurting and Michael isn't going to stop the torture. I don't want either of us to die, do you?"

"No." I rub my eyes. "No, I don't want either of us to die. It's not going to be long before someone finds me," I murmur. Wishful thinking, I guess.

"Michael is too good to let any evidence slip through the cracks. The police aren't going to find you," she says it as if she was reading the evening news, as if this was a matter of fact.

"I know my mother well enough to know that she will pull out all the stops to find me."

"You still have time left and you want to spend it waiting around for help? Some plan."

"Time? What time? Three weeks? A month? What the fuck do you know about it?" I say through clenched teeth. I prop myself up, back against the wall. "Just fuck off."

"Dude, don't let him get to you," Emma says. "He's going to try to break you down but don't let it happen. You're human. Anything else is a lie to manipulate you."

"Easy for you to say. You're not in here to see how fucked up I am."

The staccato of footsteps sound off above us, I tilt my head up to the exposed beams on the ceiling and wait for him to appear again. Kaman's heavy boots tread down the hall then my door unlocks. Floating in with him is the strong smell of rubbing alcohol. It's almost enough to burn off my nose hairs. His face looks kind and sober. What reason could he possibly have for turning on the charm?