“Was it a dream?”Her voice comes out in a whisper filled with cracks, and the answer I have to give is all the more painful for it.
“No, it wasn’t.”
She buries her head in the pillow, promptly sliding back into sleep.
And I leave her, heading back into the main room of the cabin.A scratch at the door has me letting Bruce in.I fill his food bowl and refresh his water.There’s a notepad hanging magnetically on the front of the ancient fridge.I write Zoey a message, letting her know I took care of Bruce.My hand pauses before the next sentence.I want to write,Call me when you wake up.
But if she doesn’t call, does that mean we’re done?
I’m selfish, not wanting to give her such an easy out.
We can get through this.It’s not the end.
I write,Feel better.
As I step out into the cool night air, I try not to panic at the memory of Zoey’s vacant stare.
Will she ever see me the way she did before today?
Or am I just a monster now?
25
ZOEY
The dark riverpulls at me.
The current isn’t as strong as it’s been in the past, but the pressure is there, dragging me down.My limbs feel heavy as I crawl from my bed to open the back door and let Bruce out.I sit at the dining room table, and an hour passes without my fingers lifting to work on anything.
I stare a lot.I sleep a lot.
With no immediate deadlines, I don’t bother going into town to work.
But I take my medication.A small floating log that helps keep my head above water.
And over and over, I remind myself of one thing.
I amnotcrazy.
Finally, one morning, as I stare at the teapot I haven’t added water to, a thought creeps into my mind.
If I don’t check in with my brothers soon, they’ll think something is wrong.If they think something is wrong, they’ll try to save me.
Do I need saving?
A spark of anger flares to life, inspiring me to light a burner on the stovetop and set water to boil.
I am not some damsel in distress.I donotneed saving.
I just need to process this new world I live in.
Warner turned into a wolf.That has to be a fact or else it means that I’m experiencing a mental break.
Of course, if I tried to explain the events of that night to anyone, they’d most definitely suggest I talk to a doctor.Probably more like insist.
“I found out this town is full of werewolves, and then I stabbed myself to prove I wasn’t in a dream,” I mutter while spreading raspberry jam on toast.One of the many jars Warner identified for me.
How could the helpful construction worker also be a mythical monster?The two identities clash.
