Brett stood watch over me as I curled up on the worn buttercream-colored leather couch. I felt fine, but he insisted I lay down and relax. He was convinced the run into the woods had started the cramps and pain. I would have argued, but some small part of me had agreed with him unfortunately, so here I was staring up at the ceiling fan watching it spin. The water glass nearly empty of water was sweating a ring of condensation onto the cork-board coaster. I listened as Brett typed on his phone and sent text messages. Finally I sat up and looked over at him.
"I'm gonna go take a shower before everyone gets back. I feel fine."
He narrowed his eyes over his phone and sighed, "Alright."
I tried not to leap up and run to the shower before he changed his mind, but once he was out of sight-range I bolted up the stairs for the bathroom. The larger more obnoxious part of me that hadn't wanted to lay there was now screaming, "Yay! Freedom!"
The designer of the house must have decided that the second floor was strictly for sleeping and bathing. All the bedrooms surrounded a small bit of carpeted hallway that sprouted a bathroom halfway between my brother's room and mine. The master bedroom and bathroom commanded the north side of the house and had two French-style double doors opening it completely into the hallway. My room was on the front of the house overlooking our driveway and the roof over the front porch. At night when the lights were on I could see the shadows of bugs drawn inevitably to the bright fluorescent light bulbs. The woods sprang up on the other side of the driveway and chased it back down to the road which cut through what used to be nothing but trees. My father liked the space and privacy the trees provided. After all when my parents first started having children they lived in one of a million crowded suburbs packed with growing families of four each equipped with a cornflower-blue Prius, a Pomeranian named Mitsy, and a lawn-full of brightly colored children's toys. Luckily for me my older siblings had their fair share of suburbia without me having to experience it.
I passed two family photos on the landing between the first and second half of the stairs. One was slightly faded; a photo of my parents standing beside my oldest two siblings, Jean and Nathan. Jean was 42 and Nate, his nickname, was 39. Fast forward sixteen years and in the other photo you get an aged copy of my parents holding Brett at five and me fresh out of my terrible twos. Did my parents have a mid-life crisis? Maybe.
I swung open the door to my room and grabbed a handful of clean clothes out of my dresser drawer by the window. The pale green walls seemed brighter than usual as I crossed the hallway into the bathroom. I locked the door and slipped out of my sweatshirt. Dried blood glued my t-shirt to my back but as I tugged it off and tossed it onto the growing pile of clothes, I couldn't find any wound on my skin just as Brett had said. I leaned over the sink to stare at my face in the mirror. I didn't know what I expected to see but everything looked as it always did. I glared at my own reflection and narrowed my eyebrows. It's nothing. I'm fine; I thought as I touched the glass with my fingertips. The small flecks of amber color in my iris suddenly bled out over the green and blue and into the white of my eye. I threw myself back away from the mirror and into the counter behind me bracing myself against it with a white-knuckled grip. I shook my head hoping to clear the image of my eyes turning from simple human eyes to those of the beast in my nightmares. I was awake. This couldn't be happening. Looking back up into my own face in the mirror I realized my eyes were still a rich shade of orange and brown. My fingers brushed my cheek as my pulse caught up quickly to the short, sob-like breaths I was taking. Tears swelled hot and building under my eyes, but as the first tear fell down my cheek my eyes faded to a calm blue and green. I coughed out a laugh laden with relief and fear. Stripping out of my pants and socks I realized that maybe it was something after all, but I was still fine. Right?
I managed to get into the nearly scalding water of the shower without further incident. I scrubbed my body more to rid myself of the tingling ripples of fear and shock of what was trying to crawl out of me than to clean myself. After shampoo, conditioner, and a thorough rinse with cooling water I stepped out onto the furry rug and wrapped a large towel around myself. Finally things seemed to be as normal as they could be. It always surprised me how much people fought the mundane while in shock yet once they are convinced to do a simple task like eat, shower, or wash their face, life seems to flood back in and begin again. I ran my fingers through my wet hair after dressing and towel dried it. That will have to do for now, I though as I opened the bathroom door.
I gave that girly squeal before I even made sense of the strange man standing in front of me holding two large duffle bags. He was tall, over six foot four, with shaggy shoulder-length blonde hair. He set one of the bags down and reached out a hand.
YOU ARE READING
Age of Sagacity
WerewolfA woman begins to find her way in the world, but nothing can prepare her for the hidden life of darkness, mystery, and preternatural horror that, until then, only existed in her nightmares.