"Kill me." The words escaped my throat effortlessly. It almost scared me just how effortlessly.

I felt the barrel of the gun pushing cruelly into the center of my head. The wolf within growled angrily. It was ready to act, ready to fight. It wanted death, it wanted judgment, it wanted blood. That was all it wanted, and all that it needed. Death. Had this been what Ginger had gone through before she turned?

How true it was that I had been in this position before. The scene played out before my eyes as if it were happening all over again. Ginger hunched before me, her massive legs tense and ready to pounce. We both stood in the dimly lit room that we once shared, me standing upon her old bed. In one hand I held the blade that only a few scant hours ago she had attempted to amputate her tail with, and in the other the needle filled halfway with the monkshood draught. The same stuff that I had recently become addicted to, the stuff that at the time I believed would cure both of us.

Ginger pounced, her fleshy lips curled back over her bloody fangs. I screamed, falling backwards as the creature that was once my sister barreled into me, knocking me back against the headboard. The blow left me reeling, scarcely able to breathe. I barely noticed as the blade slipped between her ribs, rending her flesh easily as if it were butter.

The stink had been so bad that I nearly gagged. The bitter-sweet stink of Sam's blood was still fresh on her breath. Her wickedly curved fangs were mere inches from my cheek. Then suddenly she collapsed, her breathing ragged and labored. We had lain there together, my arms wrapped around her neck. I held her all night, long after she had passed away.

Now here I was, in nearly the same position. My life, cursed by the lycanthropy of my sister, hung in the balance, in the hands of a psychopathic 12-year-old addicted to comics.

I closed my eyes, readying myself for what I knew was inevitable. Any moment now the bullet would come hurtling down the gun's barrel at supersonic speed, splattering my head onto the stairs behind me. At least I wouldn't feel anything.

However, to my eternal surprise, Ghost lowered the rifle. I heard the hollow "thunk" as she placed it beside her. A moment later her hand was around mine, soft and gentle. For a moment I actually believed that she would try to pull me out from the cellar. But my futile hope was thrown to waste. Her hand, as gently as ever, placed my own lower, out of the way of the trapdoor. I gazed up at her, at last understanding her plan. The bitter taste of betrayal rose to my mouth. More than ever I wanted to spring out from that dark hole in the floor and fall onto the girl before me.

Oh, how I wanted to tear her throat out, to lap up every last drop of her blood, all the while listening to her pitiful cries for mercy. But, knowing Ghost, she would probably just quote one of her beloved comics. No matter, blood is blood.

But it didn't happen. No matter how the wolf inside me screamed for death, I couldn't bring myself to accept the truth. Even as she began to close the door, I didn't want to accept it. "She isn't," the voice in my head screamed, "she's just shitting me!"

But she wasn't. The trapdoor closed with an empty clunk. A moment later there was the muffled sound of a latch being slid into place. Then nothing. Nothing but the sound of the small girl scurrying up to bed, and the smell of meat and mingling blood from the two bodies impaled on my own trap just three feet below me. One human, Alice, the woman who had run the rehab center; and a lycanthrope, the one who had hounded me ever since I had fled from my sister's dead body in the middle of the night, intent on making me his mate.

I felt sick. Whether it was from the overwhelming stench of the two dead things behind me, or the fact that Ghost, who I had trusted with all of my heart, had betrayed me; I will never know. All I knew was that I was here, alone and transforming into the very thing that I had fought so hard against. There was no hope of resisting it now, this I knew. My body no longer excepted monkshood, but rather forced it back out like deadly plague. The curse within me was too strong. The lycanthropy had won.

"Welcome to my world."

I sat bolt upright, nearly hitting my head on the locked doors above me. "Ginger?" I whispered.

"Poor Bee," Ginger cooed in the darkness. I couldn't see her, but I knew she was there somewhere. She may not have been physically in the room, but she was with me, whispering in the deepest, darkest corner of my mind. "So you finally figured it out, huh? There's no stopping it. Once it's in your blood, there's no turning back. That shit you kept cooking up couldn't protect you forever. Why don't you just take a load off, Bee? Just accept it. I did, and it felt great."

"No," I hissed. "You're dead. You're just in my mind."

"And yet all these years you've come crying to me for help, just like you did before you killed me."

"It was your own fault," I retorted, my claws digging into the soft flesh of my palms. No matter, they would heal in maybe an hour anyway. "If you had just fought against it, maybe you could have pulled through."

"Or maybe it would have just taken longer, like with you. Brigitte, if you would just accept it, live with it, you'll find it to be more fun than you can imagine."

"That proves right there that I'm stronger than you ever were."

"You're telling me that all those times you've asked for my advice since you started running were just because you're lonely?"

"…I missed you."

"Bullshit. You were scared, just like you always have been. For every claim you make that you're strong, you're still that 15-year-old girl who didn't even have the guts to stand up for her own sister."

"I WAS TRYING TO HELP YOU!" I screamed.

"YOU LOCKED ME IN THE BATHROOM, AND THEN RAN ME THROUGH WITH A KNIFE!" Ginger screamed even louder, leaving my head ringing. "YOU NEVER WANTED TO HELP ME, YOU HAD THE MONKSHOOD RIGHT IN YOUR HAND! YOU COULD HAVE INJECTED IT, BUT YOU KILLED ME!"

"Get away from me!" I screamed, "You're not Ginger! You're just in my head!"

Ginger's voice seemed to waver for a moment. "You killed me…"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

My voice echoed across the expanse of the small room. My voice came in ragged, hollow gasps. Sweat was beading on my leathery forehead, running down into my mouth, which was steadily being filled with gleaming fangs.

"You are alone…"

"Brigitte?"

I jumped, bumping my head on the trapdoor above me. Ghost's worried voice traveled through the rock-hard wood above me. "Brigitte are you alright? What happened? Did you use your powers to resurrect Alice? This is just like what Holly did in The Wolf's Bane issue 42! Can I watch?"

"Get fucked you little bitch!" I roared, tearing at the doors with my obsidian claws. The wolf within bayed for blood. Its hunger was growing to be almost unbearable. I wouldn't be able to fight it for much longer.

"Sometimes sisters fight, Brigitte. I understand that you're mad, but don't worry, I forgive you. I know that you'll feel better in the morning. Tomorrow we'll have all kinds of fun. Don't worry. Good night!"

"Ghost!"

But the girl had already left. I listed powerlessly as her silent feet thumped up to the attic to her beloved comics.

The wolf's baying grew steadily stronger. The stench of the two bodies was becoming nearly unbearable. I wouldn't be able to resist it much longer.

"You have to eat sometime…"

"Shut up, Ginger," I groaned, stifling a sob.

"What are you afraid of?"

"Leave me alone," I whimpered. "Just leave me alone…"

I could feel the changes coming about. They were coming faster than ever. I felt it, but I had no control of it. At first I felt nothing but disgust. Disgust at not being able to save myself. There had to have been something, something I hadn't done. I overlooked something. In all my research, all of my careful studies, I had managed to overlook some basic fact that could help me. And now it was too late.

My eyes traveled to the spot where the two bodies lay impaled. My tongue lolled out like a starved dog. Saliva drizzled down onto the dusty steps. Just because I've lost doesn't mean I've given up. The thought echoed through my head over and over. At first all I could do was wonder at its meaning. Wasn't it true that I had fought my lycanthropy till the end? True I may have lost the battle, but I never let the curse control me. In all my suffering I never gave up. And I didn't intend to.

The wolf's baying grew stronger and stronger, its animalistic howls drowning out all other thoughts. Its need for blood…meat…food…

It's over.

It was like a dream. I felt myself crawling down the steps. These were not my actions, but that of the wolf. I carefully made my way around the spikes stuck into the mildewed mattress. They seemed to grasp at me like wavering hands, trying to hold me back. The wolf snapped at them angrily, breaking the tip of a pair of antlers that I remembered shoving into a moth-eaten hole.

The stench grew more and more intense with every inch. Saliva was running freely from my mouth, my eyes wide and staring. Suddenly my hand made contact with something hard and rubbery. Alice's boot.

My heart was like thunder in my chest. Crawling around the spikes, I worked my way up to Alice's torso. Her body was like a pincushion. Antlers, bone fragments, and the broken heads of pitch forks had pierced her body in several areas. Blood was leaking from the wounds, soaking the soft fabric of her jacket. I could stand it no longer.

My tongue slowly curled from my mouth and began to lick at the base of a pitchfork spike. The blood was sweet, still warm. It brought more than just taste or food. It brought life. I was taking Alice's life and bringing it into myself. I wasn't eating for pleasure, I was eating to survive.

The wolf curled my lips back over my fangs and ripped into Alice's stomach. At once the comforting warmth of Alice's fresh meat poured over onto my face, permeating me with the smell of life and survival. Blood dripped from my chin, mixing with my willing saliva. I became a glutton, ready to suck every last bit of flesh from Alice's ivory bone.

With a mouth full of ragged flesh, dripping with the juices of life, I raised my head and in the darkness I cried. Even as I consumed my one-time counselor, devouring every last trace, I wept. Tears fell freely from my eyes and into the bloody mess below me.

"Out by fifteen or dead on the scene...together forever."

As I gorged myself on her flesh, my paw sought out Alice's hand. I clasped it and brought it close to my chest, holding it near. "Together forever, Ginger."

Sunlight poured through the cracks in the trapdoor. As the sun's first rays struck my body, I stirred, rising from the corner, shaking my body. I was weary, and with good reason. The previous night I had gorged myself with every last scrap of meat the woman had on her. Now only her skeleton lay there in that twisted form, the spikes still sticking through her ribs and pelvis.

Now something was drawing me back to the door. There was something nagging at the back of my mind. For some reason, I wanted to get out. I smelled another life through the cracks in the woodwork. It was young, tender…but far from innocent. I could tell just by the smell in the air. And for some reason, far beyond me, I wanted this one dead. Badly.

I pushed my nose to the door, expecting it to swing open, but it didn't. I pushed again harder, but the door wouldn't budge. Growling in frustration, I banged my head against the hardened wood. It budged maybe half an inch then slid back into place. A soft, metallic ringing accompanied it.

Bolted.

I didn't know where this thought came from, but somehow I knew that it meant that the door wouldn't move easily. I began to bang again, harder and harder each time. There was nothing that would hold me back from this other life, this life that I was so desperate to take and kill. I would rip this thing into a million pieces, howling with glee at each. It would be mine.

To be continued…

I think that's long enough. Keep an eye out for the second and final chapter coming soon. Until then, please read and review. I hope you enjoy!