Werewolf's Humanity

Elizabeth, Part 5

Cedar City, like all small towns in America, had enough churches to fit the entire population three times over, but it was a smaller non-denominational assembly near the edge of town that Sammy had been going to since he was seventeen. It was a single-story building that might have once been a rather large household before having the interior renovated for its current purpose. The main room contained only three rows of pews, the rest of the space being filled with folding chairs when needed. The walls and ceiling were a modest eggshell color, and the well-worn carpet looked like it had, at some point, been turquoise. He sat in the third row, working his way through Lamentations. This close to noon, the sunlight didn't fully illuminate either of the stained-glass windows on either side of the room. But it was peaceful here, and Sammy felt like he could seal himself away from his woes for a little while. At least, long enough to recharge his batteries.

He heard the main door open and shut long enough to admit someone. "Sam Phoenix?" a familiar, warm voice stirred the air throughout the room. David Kwan was a large, bearded man who lived with his wife and daughter in a trailer behind the church. He was not conventionally attractive, but he had a smile so brilliant, it could guide an airplane to its port on a stormy night. He also had a voice that could project; it was a fond joke amongst his congregation that the man had gotten himself ordained just because he had the volume for it.

"Hey, Pastor Kwan," he said, looking up. "Hope it's all right for me to be in here."

Kwan eased himself into the second row pew in front of Sammy. In a much more conservative volume, he said, "Of course it is. Is everything all right? I've never known you to come to church on a Wednesday."

Sammy sighed and looked up, meeting the man's gentle brown eyes. His eyebrows raised behind his spectacles, clearly making out the torment as he said next, "Wow, that bad huh?"

"It's... uhm..." Sammy shut his Bible. It was a small town, word was going to get out anyway. "Did you know Elizabeth Brooks?"

"Nurse Lizzie? Of course. My wife works P.T. at the hospital. Loved her to bits." He paused. "Oh, no. What happened?"

Sammy had wondered when this question would come. In a town as small as this, secrets were hard to keep. It was one thing to cover up their secret lives as werewolves... it was another to explain away the sudden absence of someone from their ranch. On the drive in to town, he had pondered what to say, anticipating questions and practicing answers in his head.

Even so, when put upon the spot, he struggled for the right euphemism. "She... took her own life."

Kwan gasped, and Sammy added, "In Louisiana, visiting her family. We just got back in from her funeral." He didn't like lying, especially not to a pastor, but Odysseus had insisted yesterday. A false death certificate had already been fabricated and filed into the system by the Order. People in Cedar City would wonder why the sheriff or the town coroner hadn't been notified.

"Oh, Samson. I'm so sorry. Would you please extend my condolences to your foster family?"

Sammy nodded.

"I'm here to talk if you want. Or would you prefer to be alone?"

Sammy considered the offer carefully. Back home, there were others of his kind who shared in his grief. But they were also wrapped up in it themselves, one way or another. Mutual experience was not the same as shared experience. What Sammy needed was comfort, and he couldn't impose himself on any of them to make himself feel better... if that was even possible right now.

"Maybe... maybe you can help me, then," Sammy said, lowering his gaze down to the book in his lap. "I've always had hope I'll get to see my family someday. In heaven. But Elizabeth... I invited her to come with me to church a few times. She said she was happy I had something for faith, but it wasn't for her. And now... and now..." He took a deep breath and choked down the resurging emotions. "Now I think I'll never see her again."

He felt a hand touch his shoulder and looked up.

"Your love for her does you credit," Kwan said. "But the love that humans are capable of, when compared to God's love, is like moonlight compared to the sun. Our Father in Heaven loved her too, and no doubt He grieves for her as well because she never answered His call."

Sammy nodded slightly as he listened. "She... was... a good person. One of the best I ever knew," he declared. "I just..."

He was struggling. The ideas were half-formed in his mind, not translating well to spoken word. Even though he had gotten better since being rescued, his years having no one to talk to had stunted his ability to express himself. "I... don't like the idea that she doesn't get to go to heaven."

"I know. I've lost people I've loved too. We all have. But you did everything you could for her, I'm sure. But she struggled with her inner demons for so long--and I mean that metaphorically, though perhaps at the end it was literal ones who were whispering such heinous thoughts into her ear. At least, take comfort in knowing she no longer has to fight. She may not be in heaven, but at least she's at peace."

Kwan's ministry rejected the concept of hell. He preached that Heaven was to be in God's presence, and to be cast away from Him was to be rendered null and void, not some endless torment.

Peace. Was that what Elizabeth had now? Maybe. But what about him? Was he being selfish for wanting her back? No, no...because if he had the power to wish her back, then he would have the power to heal her mind. It wasn't her fault that she had a chemical imbalance in her brain, but she had borne it bravely for as long as she could, until it had eaten away almost all that was good in her and left her without hope.

He didn't think she was a coward or love her any less because of what she had done. He couldn't imagine what kind of battlefield her psyche had been.

But she had her peace. And he had his own struggles. As much as Sammy had been through... he had to keep going. And not just for himself, but for Elizabeth too. He still had a promise to keep.

"Thank you, Pastor Kwan," he said. "Would it be all right if I stayed here late?"

"Our doors are always open, Sam," he said, standing up. "You'll be in my prayers. And if you need anything, you can always give me a call. Any time."

"Thank you."

***

Sammy didn't get home til almost midnight, and even then he didn't go back into the house. He shifted and ran through the forest, eventually settling down into a niche to sleep when exhaustion overtook him. He dreamed of Elizabeth. When he returned to the ranch the next morning, all was quiet. Sammy glanced up to the second story window with drawn curtains. It had been years since he had climbed up to go in through there. And as much as he wanted to, to feel some connection to his lost sister, there was no one inside to unlock the window and let him in. Slumping, he went back to his truck and used the door as a screen for privacy as he shifted back to human form and put back on the clothes he had left in the front seat.

Night Sky and her brother's family were seated around the living room when he entered. She stood up and wrapped her arms around him, and he hugged her back, pushing his nose into her hair to inhale her scent, and the traces of their packmates' scents within. The scent of family.

"Are you okay, baby?" she asked.

"Are you?"

She shuddered. "No. But I will be."

"So will I. Eventually."

She let him go and gave him a gentle nudge towards the stairs. "Go shower and change. My brother's taking the family out to a late breakfast. That includes you."

He nodded, and climbed up to the second story, slowing as he passed by the closed door to Elizabeth's room on the way to his own. He could still smell her blood, drying and rotting.

He shook his head and pushed himself forward. Peace. She had found her peace. But he would have to look harder to find his own.

This story is dedicated to anyone who has lost a loved one to suicide, and to anyone contemplating that irreversible mistake. There are people who would miss you when you're gone. Please, I beg you, don't do that to yourself, or them.