Just made it on time. God, I write slow now.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sisters Grimm.
She hates herself, at this point. Enormously so. She hates herself so much it's almost like it's a real thing inside her, like a real evil spirit, clawing it's way around with razor claws and a bloody mouth. Because why, for God's sake, why?! Why is she standing in front of her dead sister and feeling relieved?!
...
She was gone for six days. It had been six days before they had finally managed to track her down, track down the little red girl and her bloody counterpart. Her bloody furred counterpart, dripping drool and blood onto the floor as it snacked on Hamstead's leg.
Its big ears pricked as they entered.
Its big eyes gleamed when it turned to them.
Its big teeth glinted, rusty-red, as it grinned at them.
"Dinnertime," it rasped, and pounced on Jake.
...
In the end, Canis plunged his sword through its shoulderblades. When he did, it stumbled (at last), gurgling blood, and collapsed on the floor.
When that happened, all fell silent.
Tense seconds passed.
One.
Two.
And then. "Pa- You just killed your own daughter, Canis. Heh." It coughed feebly. "You're a... heh, you're a monster without me."
It chuckled, opened its mouth again, but before it could say anything, Canis swung his sword down, eyes spitting fire. The chuckle stopped, and the big head rolled from its body.
Complete chaos was strewn around the corpse. Leaning on a table, with a white face and a white bone fragment sticking out of her ankle, was Granny. Sobbing in the corner was Daphne, wand arm shaky and iron-red. Puck was on all-fours on the ground throwing up, his hoodie stained with vomit, and with every upheaval the pain of cracked ribs burned and brought tears to his eyes.
They were fine, though, compared to Jake.
Because Jake had passed out on the ground, with a burst eye on his left side and a mangled leg on his right. With his nose shredded to pieces and his bare chest slashed in three places. With his brother feverishly searching his coat pockets, searching for anything that would stop the bleeding.
Compared to Jake, anyone would be fine.
Veronica knelt down beside Granny, and started to inspect her ankle.
"Sabrina, call the ambulance," she said.
The sixteen year old girl whimpered. The sword dropped from her fingers, and tears stung the slash across her cheek. "Mom..."
"Sabrina, call the ambulance now!"
...
Even though the thing was weeks dead, the memory of it still lingered within their muddled brains. Every thought it intruded on it infected, every memory it snuck up behind it slaughtered —Dinnertime— and soon all the glittering gold in their lives turned to smouldering black.
The little girl in red became the little girl sloughed in fur.
Or at least, to Sabrina she did.
...
She knew she shouldn't hate Red. She knew that she couldn't control what she was doing, that it wasn't her but the Wolf who killed all those people. She knew that. But... But still! They were... All those people, dead, slaughtered! Hamstead, Tom, Jake almost! Dead! Sw-swallowed!
Swallowed!
...
Even when she found Canis sitting in the armchair, holding an old red cloak and reading that stupid story again, she still hated her.
Even when Canis, that immovable rock, started crying, howling almost, and beat his frail fists against the wall, she still hated her.
Even when that old man held onto her like he was falling to pieces, heart broken and eyes bleeding saltwater, she still hated her.
Because...
...
Because, to the hating blonde girl, that shack was hell. Because that shack was a lucid nightmare to her, with darkness and demons and sputtering dying angels. Because to her, the Wolf and the girl were joined into one, and they were the devil on earth.
When she had waited for the ambulance, she had looked around. She had seen her family lying there, her sister crying, her uncle nearly dead.
She had seen Hamstead's leg tossed carelessly in the corner, with Tom's spit-covered wedding ring sitting beside it.
She had seen the little child-sized bed in the next room.
She saw all this. She saw all this, all of it, everything! She saw the death that stupid monster caused, she saw the blood and the spit and the tears, she saw the bones it spat out! She saw that beast's final mark on this earth, contained within four bloodstained little walls.
So yes, yes, maybe she was crying. Yes, maybe she should be sad that she just lost her sister in the most tragic way possible.
But she was angry. Oh God, she was angry. She saw this and she was really motherfucking pissed off! She hated that girl! Hated her! She hated her so much, so so much, that no amount of old man tears would change that!
...
So even though her eyes were leaking tears and her breath was hitching in her throat, inside, her heart burned.
And she picked her sword up again.
...
Eventually, most of that hate wore off. Reason fought its way past the blind emotion which surged through her thoughts, bringing with it logic that soothed her supercharged nerves, and, slowly, her hate began to ebb away.
Sick guilt took it's place.
Sick, sad, remorseful guilt took its place. Guilt that she hated a girl who had no control over what she was doing. Guilt that she hated the girl that had loved her like a sister. Guilt that she let the girl's beautiful red cloak become (to her) the cloak stained with blood.
Hence, the self hating.
Hence, the tears.
Now, as she stares at that massive wooden casket, a tiny tuft of fur still peeking out from the top, she feels an overwhelming wave of sadness crash into her. She feels her composure breaking because her dead sister died a death that wasn't meant for pure people, a death that didn't even her let her die in the right body. Inside, she feels her heart splinter into a thousand pieces of glass.
Despite all this, though, a tiny shard of relief still crawls through.
Because, it whispers, contained monsters are still monsters.
And the only safe monsters are dead monsters.
So for those of you who like chemistry, or who like great art in general, look up '112 cartoon elements', and it'll come up with these awesome personifications of the elements in the Periodic Table.
Speaking of great art, thank you to Lara D, who drew the beautiful cover picture which I will attach onto this story tomorrow because I need to leave very soon.
Oh, and before I forget, ember53608 is hosting a contest called '10th Anniversary Fic Contest!', which (surprise surprise) is celebrating SG's 10th anniversary. She's an absolutely fantastic writer and the contest is for a great reason, so get involved you writers who have free time to write and haven't joined up already.
Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this. Man, I love this event.