Howl

Chapter 3

''Are you awake, Miss?'' 

''Uh huh,'' I mumbled groggily, straightening in my seat. I had been leaning against the door, suffering from a half-conscious state where I wasn't sure what I was doing. Saliva dripped down the window, and to my horror, I realized that it was drool. Gross. I wiped it away distastefully. 

''We're at your stop, Miss. I hope you have a good night,'' The driver announced snidely, as if he didn't mean the last part at all. I wouldn't have much fun driving around a bloodied girl who was slavering in the backseat, either. 

I extracted some money from my purse, handing him his much needed fare before leaving the cab. To my disappointment, getting out was more difficult than planned. I fumbled with the door for a minute, tops, and then finally opened it. But instead of stepping out like any other human, I crawled the rest of the way as inertly as possible, toppling onto the sidewalk in a crumpled heap.

The cab sped away, leaving me to eat dust as I regained my composure. 

Nearby, my house loomed ominously, as if it were awaiting my arrival. I wasn't sure what time it was, but it had to be close midnight, which would mean that my mom and Kirsten were asleep. Originally, I had explained to Mom that I would be staying over at Lindsay's. 

But because of my physical condition, getting caught would be like signing my own death sentence.  Sneaking across the lawn, I upturned a ceramic pot where the secret key was hidden. 

Then, without making too much noise, I fiddled with the lock till the front door eased open. 

After I had re-locked the front door, I climbed the stairs to my room. Thankfully they were carpeted, so I didn't have to worry about tip-toeing. 

When I had safely made it to my room, I promptly tended to my wound.

I grabbed a few towels, along with some antiseptic ointment, even though I knew that they wouldn't be of much help. The wolf-like creature had really done a number. 

Carefully, I unwrapped the cardigan that I had secured around my arm. Memories from earlier danced around my head, taunting me with images of mangled flesh and feral, green eyes. 

Forcing away those thoughts, I tried to think about something more uplifting. As I continued to unwrap my arm, I reminisced about my vacation to Denmark the other year. It was the first time my mom had taken me to go visit my relatives, namely my Aunt Hanne and her daughter, Silje. They lived in an isolated town off the coast of Denmark, but it still had been an experience. Gorgeous beaches, thatched homes, colorful shoppes, welcoming residents, and of course, the pastries were to die for. 

But even that couldn't keep me from thinking about the task at hand. Steadying myself mentally, I glanced down at my arm, and gasped.