They all stopped near the outcrop just below me. A girl’s voice hissed in my direction, “Don’t move!”
I froze, not understanding why but understanding the urgency in her voice.
Then everything happened at once.
Colliding. Smashing. Loud and confusing.
An explosion shook the ground. Debris spewed from the side of the outer wall of Birchton. I instinctively threw my head to the ground quickly and covered it with my arms. Everyone from the cave and in front of me shouted, “No!” Which confused me further.
Guttural, grunting sounds. Closer and closer. The snow crunched under something enormous. Legs as thick as tree trunks. I turned back to the cave from where I lay. Everyone stood outside, waving their arms and yelling. Rash’s voice pierced through the other noises.
“Run! You idiot! Run!”
The screams of my friends faded into the background as my ears tuned to deep, loud breaths that seemed to echo inside a barrel. I scrambled, my legs grazing the rock underneath the snow and slipping back down. I couldn’t get a hold. I pushed up with all my strength to standing and then fell to the ground on my back.
That was when I saw it from my upside-down position, hurling towards me, white as snow. Thick, wiry, white hair glistened under crisscrossed torchlight as it charged at me with gigantic paws that seemed to run over the snow and not sink into it. It was bigger than a bear, the shape of its head more dog like but with smaller ears. Its black lips pulled back to reveal massive white teeth—threatening, angry teeth. I couldn’t move, for fear, for fascination, for lack of will.
“Get up!” Desh screamed.
It slowed as its head swung towards the people screaming at the cave entrance. But their shouts only enraged it further, and its eyes trained on me as it set into a calculated stalk. It was close, steam pulsing from its wet, black nose, its dark eyes wide. Fur bristled along its back, thick as straws. Its mouth opened in a threatening growl, showing gums pulled back in aggression and teeth ready to tear me apart.
Fear took over and whatever had stalled me released its grip. I tried to get up, to run, to escape this enormous animal. But I was out of time. It was over the top of me, and I could do nothing but stare as it reared back slightly, standing on its hind legs. Its body stretched to the sky, almost ten feet tall, its control almost human—its face nothing of the sort. I closed my eyes as its paws rammed my chest and its full weight came down on me. A rib cracked and my breath was thumped from my lungs. My arms flew up to cover my face. It snapped at me, but my feet planted in its chest, pushing against its heft. I barely held it back and its teeth dragged across my wrists and forearms without really digging in. I screamed in pain.
A shot would alert guards in Birchton of our location so the others approached from the cave, waving their arms in an attempt to scare it off. It took no notice, still straining against my arms to reach my neck. Its mouth knocked against my forearms with such force that it took every part of me to fight it.
Every part of me quickly lost the fight. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. It was too strong. I was too weak. My arms fell down. My body exhaled and went numb. The urgency to flee left me.
The creature’s saliva dripped into my eyes; its rancid, hot breath flooded my senses. Long, claws sharp as scalpels sunk deep into my chest, slowly piercing my skin and working their way deeper. I let out a sigh that hardly had any breath left in it. It was going to rip me open, and I wasn’t sure I cared. Warm blood ran down my sides and into the snow, turning to pink ice.
I closed my eyes, saw the faces of the people I killed, the woman I left behind, and I made the wrong choice.
Just for a second, I gave in.
I let go.
And that was all the creature needed.
Words blinked overhead: I have a son. His name is Orry. He needs me. And then they floated away on the snowflakes with my life.
ROSA
We were ordered to leave. Grant barked it like a dog. Camille jumped to his side, placed her jeweled fingers on his shoulders, and his hand reached up to pat her. The younger ones left. I understood his pride. He didn’t want his children or me to see him being carried to the wheelchair.
I was relieved. Dinner was over. I couldn’t have taken one more second of it before I jumped up on the table and kicked the plates into Grant’s face. I pictured it now as I leaned against the smooth-as-butter door of my bedroom that the guard closed and locked as soon as I stepped inside. I still wanted it. Pressing my hands into the reassuring timber, I took a breath. I imagined his face dripping with gravy, a mushroom stuck to his brow. He would kill me. No, first, he would smile, and then he would kill me.
“Ugh!” I banged the door softly. Scared to attract attention.
I still didn’t understand what the purpose of the dinner was. If it was meant to make me feel inferior, it did, but not in the way Grant would have wanted. I felt inferior to myself. Disgusted at my own behavior. If Joseph saw me now, he wouldn’t know me. I ran my hands through my hair and let my imagination settle on his face. My mind always went back to home. What was once my home. Joseph in a chair with Orry, sleeping, safe, warm. I reached out to touch him, to feel a curl of his gold hair in my fingertips. I tucked the memory under my skin. He was always with me. They couldn’t take that away.
I shook my head. At least they were both far away from here.
I moved towards my bed, kicking off my shoes as I walked. I paused, grunted in frustration, and picked them up, tucking them neatly under the chair by the door. I didn’t want to annoy Red any more than I already had. Well actually, I did, but I knew I shouldn’t.
Pajamas were laid out on the bed, pink and yellow, made of fabric as soft as a rabbit’s ear. Pink daisies spotted the pattern, and it made me sick. What kind of nightmare was this? It felt like they were wrapping me in silk only to light it on fire. This comfort was a lie, and I was deathly scared of what my true treatment would be. I picked up the pajama top. Its pink, daisy-shaped buttons were nauseating.
I got into bed fully clothed, ignoring the toothbrush and other toiletries that had been put on the bedside table. I kicked the pajamas with my feet under the quilt until they fell in a heap on the floor.
My one pathetic attempt at defiance.
My chest began to rise and fall more rapidly, and panic crept up my arms like spider webs and wrapped around my throat. My eyes darted to the camera trained on my wreck of a body. I was trapped. Turning my head, I screamed into the pillow. How was I going to get out of this?
Sleep played with me. I’d close my eyes to nightmares. Something hurt deep inside, and I couldn’t name it. I woke up in pain, and I slept in pain.
When the door opened, I was not surprised, as I’d woken up screaming so hard my voice was hoarse. When I saw who it was, though, I shrank back.
It was Judith. She walked in, barefoot, looking smaller, more fragile than she had at dinner. She rolled her head around, taking in the position of the camera, and then casually collapsed at the foot of my bed like she done it a million times. I immediately sat up and pulled my feet away from her.
“Ya don’t need to be scared of me,” she said, her words stretching out lazily, her hair falling in perfect waves over her shoulders.
I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not,” I lied. She was maybe the scariest thing I’d ever come across.