The Monster Within

When the Chaos Calls Me Out

Hollis, trembling like a kicked mutt, slid onto the creaking wood floor, back against the nightstand, cold revolver grasped tight in her hands. She kept her finger from the trigger, knowing she would not risk firing off a shot unless she intended to kill. That thought alone made her perspire, made the mutton stew sit heavy in her gut. There was no noise, not yet, still just the distance hammering of hooves on the trodden ground, dotted with thunder rolling closer, echoing in the valley.

The betrayal of their host, though a bitter taste in her mouth, did not surprise her in the slightest. All her mother's warnings seemed to have roots, and now those roots had grown into her reality. She stared at the scratched white door, waiting.

The moments before this—those potent, frightening memories, were enough to make her want to crawl under the bed and weep. Never before had she been so resigned to her fate, knowing there was no escaping the ultimate predator. Had he been designed that way by the scientists? She hoped not, for it was a wicked and evil side, the likes of which she'd never seen on anyone's face before. It was unearthly, demonic. She pressed the back of her hand to her lips to still their trembling, feeling his heavy, strong body on hers, feeling his fingers and palm clamping down on her mouth to quiet her pleas, feeling him, hard and eager and massive against her thighs and back and bare bum.

What could he have been dreaming of to result in that response? He'd been whimpering, twitching, crying, face wet with tears she didn't know he was capable of producing.

It didn't matter to her, now; she was safe from him, from one foe, brought back from the precipice of a deadly cliff, embraced tightly in arms that had had her pinned moments before. Her heart had leapt into her throat in relief as she'd cried into his chest, but it all sickened her, for the one who'd sworn to protect her was seconds away from degrading her.

She wiped her tears, listening as shouts erupted outside, jumping and jittery, sniveling and pathetic. Would it always be this way, for her now? Danger on each end, with her in the middle being ripped apart? Whatever choices she made, there was always a price to pay.

She pinched her eyes shut, curling in on her self as the first shots volleyed through the valley. The cacophony was met with silence, then piercing screams of utter fear. He'd risen from the dead again, she thought. The floor outside her door creaked, but she was listening too intently on the fight just outside her window to notice. The door swung open, slow, and she stiffened, peering through the darkness, heart clenching like a fist.

Cara stood, rifle in hand, glaring down at her. Hollis, shaking, raised the revolver, petrified cries issuing from her mouth. Her finger stayed still as stone, unable to move the few centimeters to the trigger.

"Put your gun down, girl," Cara hissed, stepping into the room, lowering her rifle. Hollis raised her gun higher, watching as the heavy, shiny barrel shook. Even if she fired off a shot, she was sure to miss. Oberon's words echoed in her mind. Cara had sold her.

"What did you...what—"

"Shut up, little whore," she sneered, though she stay rooted to her spot, a small twinkle of fear glimmering in her beady eyes.

"Yer wasting your pathetic life, breeding with that impure scum," she hissed down at Hollis, who felt herself go rather icy. She shook her head, ready to defend what little honor she had left, but Cara cut her off, jutting the barrel of her rifle in her direction.

"Yer mother was an idiot. Two daughters with genes so pure you could lick them, and she hid ye both away while the world rotted."

Hollis waited, her trembles beginning to cease as premonition crept over her. Outside, the screams of agony continued. Oberon was winning.