The Unwanted Wendigo [ManxMan]

Chapter Thirty-six: Break the Spell

~Chapter Thirty-six: Break the Spell~

From the outside, the house looks like any normal house on the lake, just close enough to the waterfront that it has a clear view while also high enough on a small incline that flooding is not a concern. Unsurprisingly, considering that the owner is not a normal human, it is mostly surrounded by trees with the only real opening being to the water, which would decrease the chances of anyone noticing anything suspicious about the house or its owner. And it is for that reason that I was completely expecting the interior to be filled with mounted human skulls and other grotesque decor. Instead, though the interior still makes me grimace, it is not because there are the remains or corpses or a horrible smell; it's because of the walls.

If I didn't know better, I'd think this wasn't a wendigo's house.

The decor is pretty old, kind of like an Old South home from when I was still growing into my power during the late 1800s, but nothing actually looks old. The furniture appears to have been treated well throughout the years, and there does not appear to be mold or blood stains anywhere. And it is because of the lack of gore that the walls are what really catch my attention most, as someone painted pink and red flowers all over them at some point in time, and the current owner apparently did not see fit to change that.

It's like I'm visiting Grandma Wendy or something.

Well, if 'visiting' meant staying indefinitely as a not-so-willing guest of Jackson in the house of an ancient wendigo, anyway. Because, though Jackson had admitted to having his own houses and lands in multiple states on the walk here, he had also made it clear that he expects me to make a break for it, and since travelling through populated places - such as an airport or on busy roads - would give me plenty of opportunities to run, the old wendigo who owns this property graciously decided to let Jackson use the land until I have 'learned my place,' which will be never.

...Hopefully.

I am not stupid enough to think myself invulnerable to psychological torture or brainwashing, as I know that, even with our physical changes, wendigi still have a pretty similar mental state to humans, but if I can leave, I will not need to worry about that kind of thing. And I will escape; I have to. It is as simple as that.

There's just one little problem with that...

-

The fact that I am soaking wet, cold, and also very dirty seems to matter little to Jackson as he carries me like a child through the snowy forest. Of course, just because he does not care, it does not mean I do not care, even if for different reasons. Because, for one, I do not want him touching me, and two, if he has to touch me, the least he could do is carry me like a sack of potatoes; it would feel less personal.

However, as soon as I feel capable of even so much as voicing a complaint, as whatever his blood did to me is still making my head reel with this foreign buzzing, Jackson seems to sense this and stops walking to look me in the eye. "Don't."

Even though it is rather lacking in specifics, the word bounces around my head like a rubber ball in a sealed box. It does not hurt, per say, but when I try to focus on anything but that word, I find that I just...can't. It is like trying to grasp water with a fork. And it is the most terrifying thing I have ever felt.

-

I know that he did something to me before when he interrupted my hunt a while ago, something that made me blackout and eat even when I did not want to, but that could be blamed on extreme circumstances. While the circumstances surrounding today might have been extreme, too, though, I am not half-starved and sleep-deprived at the moment, and I am pretty sure the sheer dread mixed with the leftover adrenaline I have been experiencing at the time of that order should have allowed me to overpower the compulsion or whatever it was. Yet, I could not.