Catharsis

THIRTY EIGHT

"There's nothing either of us can do to stop it. But I promise you will be okay. Nothing is going to happen to you."

It doesn't seem to console her. "Please don't go." She sniffles. "I just want more time."

"I wish there was more time, but there's a transformation soon and I have to -"

"Kill yourself before then?" she interjects. I sigh for the fact that a twelve-year-old has to even think of something like that.

"I probably won't wake up. I probably won't make it out human anyway."

After a moment, I begin to smooth her hair.

"I can't be here anymore," she says, voice blank.

"In the woods?"

"No, conscious. I need a little bit of sleep to process the fact that I'm going to be facing life on my own now. The whole prospect freaks me out."

Almost as soon as she gives herself permission, she begins to drift off. I stay awake in a panic, and in a deja vu state for the fact that last night went just like this. Should I bother to chain myself? I wait for my mind to snap. But it hasn't. So, I sit in the quiet of the woods and the flecks of pale, late morning sun that splatter across the ground, through the leaves. Gently, I rock back and forth with Emma next to me and prod at the fire. Lumpy shapes are in her pocket: a rock collection.

I squeeze the armband in my hand. Maybe there is another way to work through this. Maybe Jonah and Mom deserve an explanation as much as Sammy did. I could die in peace now, but what about them? What about their peace? Can they have it now knowing that I was killed in some unknown circumstance? I shove the questions out of my head. I can't believe I'm doubting my decision to leave them hanging. That's truly what is best for everyone involved. No questions.

Emma starts to shiver in a jerking, jittery way. I pull my hoodie up over my head, lay it across her and bear through the freezing air instead. About half an hour passes before she awakens. Her head lifts off me, eyelashes fluttering.

"I hope you're ready," I say.

She yawns and stretches her arms in front of her. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"I'm going to call a cab."

I stomp out what's left of our small fire, pack Dad's broken armband into my backpack, and we head back to the gas station. Emma doesn't say a word the whole way. As a precaution, I slip my new gloves on before we go in. My left-hand doesn't exactly fit, with three-inch claws, but I put it on as much as I'm able. Emma is unflinching, walking in through the doors without a second thought. I follow, but nausea has my intestines all twisted up. The cashier is a burly man, middle-aged with a bald head and muscles that make both Jonah and Kaman look scrawny.

"Can I help you, folks?" He asks.

"Can I use your guys' phone?" I reply, holding an arm against my mouth as if I'm just wiping my nose on my sleeve. Because my phone was destroyed by an insane scientist who kept me, a werewolf, caged up in his basement for the past three weeks. Oh, and I could snap at any moment and maim you. His gaze reads nonchalant with a bit of suspicion. Even though I've got sunglasses on, I dart my eyes away. After a moment of studying me, his narrow eyes widen.

"Sure. You know I always said they shouldn't have gotten rid of that payphone out there. Not everyone has a cell phone these days." He says with a friendly tone and hands me a black, cordless phone.

"Uh," I turn my head over my shoulder toward Emma who is casually strolling through the aisles, touching all the colorful packages. She side-eyes me once, then turns back to her business. "Do you know the number for the taxi service here in town?" I continue, and turn back to him when I'm done speaking.