After being attacked, professional call girl Raya and her sister Lana become a little less human. Though one sees this as a gift and an enhancement toward professional improvement, the other sees this as a curse.
On top of that, they're being toyed...
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Chills slithered down Lana's spine so intensely, vibrations penetrated throughout her being. Strained or not, she knew all too well who that voice belonged to.
It can't be. No way! she thought, cupping her mouth with her dirty paws.
But the voice, nor the eyes could be mistaken. The way the blue gleamed at her was new, but underneath, they were the same familiar eyes - just like Raya's and her own, only softened with age. She had looked into those very eyes many times before.
"Grandma?" Lana choked out in a whisper. But Grandma is dead! Or supposed to be...her ashes are upstairs. She died years ago. There must be some mistake!
Her brain couldn't wrap around what she was seeing. How does one process such an ordeal?
Lana took a timid step forward and the creature's face became fully visible - thanks to the roaring glow of the lanterns. The stains of blood and dirt could not erase the slender nose, the sharp chin, nor the delicate curve of the lips that had always greeted her with a kind, loving smile. A horrid thought became reality as Lana realized that it was, in fact, none other than her dear, previously dead grandmother.
The woman was seated, slouched sideways, her arms bound above her head. Her tiny wrists hung loosely within oversized metal cuffs attached to a chain with thick, rusty links. Her state was...alarming. She was almost wolfed out. A whimper slipped through the hand covering Lana's mouth.
No! Grandmother? A werewolf? Her grey and white coat was thinning; only small, brittle patches remained. Her frame was skinny and brittle. Some of her teeth had fallen out along with the majority of her fingernails. Lana could see some of them on the floor around her. In her poor condition, Grandma was barely managing to breathe. The mere sight was unbearable. Lana's insides seemed to tear clean apart. Her throat tightened and her stomach churned.
"Grandma," Lana cried, "I'm here. What happened to you?"
The poor thing attempted to speak, but no words seemed to oblige her. Breaking eye contact, Grandma's rib-cage expanded one last time before her head fell lifeless. The drum beat inside Lana's ears faltered, then ceased to exist.
Never in her life had Lana felt so frozen and torn. Should she cry? Scream? Run? Be angry? Breathe? Lana's knees give way as she crashed to the ground, wanting to cry, but unable to.
"I can't deal with this insane shit," she spat bitterly.
The cold ground nipped at Lana's legs, but she remained seated, numb and still, gazing at her sweet ol' granny. The woman that had helped Grandpa raise her and Raya as if they were their own children.
Why? she thought. Why would they hide what grandma was? Would we have even believed it? Of course not. Lana answered herself with a snort.
That wolf carcass couldn't be the same body that belonged to the person who gave her baths and brushed her hair. Not the same one whom, on Friday nights, would cozy on the couch with her and Raya, all with their steamy cups of hot cocoa, and watch cartoon re-runs. Not the one that kissed their cheeks every night and read them Thumbelina and Rapunzel before at least five hundred bed times.
