AN: I will soon be re-writing my Twilight Saga fics. To better personalize Alice in better character. Bear with me. The more reviews I get...the faster I can get to finishing that up. I'm a little rusty at writing so let me know what you think!
Warning!: femslash, yuri...don't like it? (Do I sound like I give a shit? No I do not.) OOCness! Kinda AU cause I added a person :p
Disclaim: I forgot to put this up! I don't own Red Riding Hood, but wouldn't it be so cool if I did?
'Be good Valerie.'
It kept ringing over and over in my head as I followed behind Pat. And I knew I had to apologize to my mother. I didn't want to…and I shouldn't have had to…but I needed to. She must feel bad enough.
Or in some cold part of myself I hoped she did.
Pat stood in front of me, and without looking I could feel my mother at my side. She needed closure…she should have just been honest with papa from the start. But she hadn't been…and now…she's here.
I spot Peter make his way to his sister, he glances at me before looking at Pat. He whispers something and her head turns just so, I hear her say something back. I wish I had better hearing.
I look at my mother as the carriage rolls into the village square. "I'm sorry." I mumble. She nods slowly. Then she shakes her head and smiles sadly.
"It's understandable. You don't have to say sorry…I should." And that's all I get…she can't say she's really sorry even though she's hurting from obvious guilt. She probably feels like she can't apologize fully because she hasn't paid back her years of lying.
At least…I hope that's how she thinks.
I stare at the horses…they're unlike ours. These are big and strong and daunting. Like they could crush me at any moment if so inclined. It was scary.
Patricia shifts, her feet shuffle...mixing the still falling snow.
The carriage stops in a half circle, guarded by large soldiers with large swords…I could face down wild fox and cubs…but I was shivering in fear from just the sight of these people.
I feel someone move behind us, I look over my shoulder to see papa hovering just behind us, worry in his eyes. He stands more towards me, protective.
Turning back, Peter is talking again, pointing to the large metal elephant, a soldier is seated on top with a javelin. Pat turns her head again and I meet her eyes for a moment.
'I'm not going to let him get near you.'
I smile just a little, and I see the corner of her mouth turn up as she looks away again.
But then my attention is called back to what's happening. I stare at the carriage door which has a large cross bolted onto it. When the soldiers pull off their helmets, I'm not surprised at their skin color…we get traders that come through so often with dark skin, what scares me is the sharp glare they're shooting at everyone.
And I don't know if I should cower back to my father for comfort and press myself into Patricia's back for solitude. I'm torn…so I stay put.
They open the carriage and a set of three steps are rolled out. "Presenting his eminence; Father Solomon."
A man steps out slowly and carefully. He's about papa's height. His hair is neatly cut and combed and so is his beard…his clothes are made of a deep velvet, a sash around his waist and a large cross hanging from a string around his neck. But his eyes made him seem unwelcoming…cold and hard…sad and angry…he's seen too much to ever be at peace anywhere.
He steps down and the only one to clap is the Father of our own small church.
"Papa!"
"Father!"
Two girls scramble out after him, with none of the grace their father has. He whispers to them and I have no idea what words of comfort he's offering, but the tone sounds warm and sweet, but it's also hard…like poisoned whiskey.
They seem to feel better, and he sends them back to the carriage, an old nanny peers out, opening a hand to the girls. They disappear inside and the door closes…they'll probably be taken to the next town or to the city.
I can feel my legs itching with an urge to go to Pat, she'd wrap me up in a tight bear hug and never let me go, or least…not until Henry came along.
But true to her word, as soon as the Father glanced around and his eyes landed on me, she leaned over and hid me from view.
Father Auguste took Father Solomon's hand and kissed his ring. The visiting priest reacted as if such a thing happened all the time.
"You've arrived just in time for our festival." I looked around, I was too short to see over Peter and Patricia's shoulders, all I could see was the severed wolf head spiked on the wooden spear…eyes rolling up and maw open.
Showing that kind of thing in front of children was…grotesque. "The werewolf, as you can see, has been slain!" Whoever was talking raised the head and dug it down into the ground where it stood.
I could see it perfectly between Peter and Pat's shoulders. It was turned towards me…like it was glaring. I shifted uncomfortably. Pat moves and I can't see it anymore.
Sometimes I wonder if she can read my mind, it wouldn't surprise me.
Father Solomon stares at the head for a moment before looking around. "That is not the head of a werewolf."
"No disrespect," they say that…but funny how you can always hear that 'you're wrong' tone when they say it. "We've lived with and in fear of this monster for just about two generations. We know what we're dealing with."
Yes because every day a person hears of a werewolf. No…I knew better than to believe that head was the werewolf…something about it just wasn't right. It was too easy to be right.
"No disrespect," Father Solomon counters a straight face but a smug tone. "But you have no idea what you're dealing with. Have you ever seen it before the night you went to kill it? Really seen it?" He smirked and pointed…who was he talking to? "I was like you once you know."
He tells us a story…about his wife, his children, his life…what he'd done and what he'd seen. How the werewolf he dealt with ripped his best friend in half on a drunken night they went searching for it. How he was lucky enough to get a strike with his ax.
"I hacked…and hacked at it with my ax." He looks around; I look up at he meets my gaze for just a moment before Patricia keeps me safe from view again. "And suddenly it was gone. I was lucky enough to get off one of its front paws." He explains.
His story continues, his voice sounds tired and sad but full of vigor, trying to convey how serious this was. He told us about how he took the paw as a trophy…a souvenir. He tells us about he goes home to find his wife; she has a bloody rag around her wrist…
The story made me shiver.
He finishes telling us about how he looks at what he thought was a paw…only to find…he takes a box and opens it.
"The paw was gone…," he holds it out and shows it around. "In its place was this." I peer around Pat's shoulder to see a severed hand of a woman, a ring still dully glittering around the ring finger of the cold dead flesh.
I flinch and stand back; my mother holds my hand and squeezes it comfortingly.
Father Solomon tells us that he had to lie to his little girls about their mother. What would they think of him or of themselves if he'd told them the truth? I could see the reason to lie behind this story. "When a werewolf dies it returns to its human shape." He moved back into my line of sight, looking up at the wolf head.
"What you have here is just a very common gray wolf."
I'm scared, I had never felt this kind of fear…with Patricia always around I never had to be afraid of anything. She was like a hero…a knight. What made me so afraid is wondering if she would still be now…even after I was married.
We're moved into the town hall…he continues telling us what we need to know. It only makes me more afraid.
He shows us a working fixture of the moon, tells us that the red moon (which only happens once every thirteen years) is the only time when werewolves can infect you with their bite. I don't hear much more than those…just pieces.
"Until the blood moon wanes…you will not be safe."
"We're safe now. I killed the wolf." I noticed whoever was talking didn't say we anymore…it was simply I. But he was being silly and stubborn. Hadn't he heard Father Solomon say that the werewolf returns to its human shape when dead?
Father Solomon had no reason to lie, he was trying to help, and old villagers to hard of head in their ways were making it difficult.
"The wolf has tricked you," he spoke firmly when they talked about going to the monster's lair. "It takes human shape…why hide outside the village where it can be easily noticed walking about in human skin…," he looks around. "When it's so much easier to blend in with all of you?"
That made me even more afraid, I glance around, suddenly feeling like I'm in a room full of intruders and secret keepers and liars. A room of strangers.
"This killer could be anyone." Father Solomon walks around the small space. "You neighbor…the shop keeper down your street…your best friend."
I seek out Patricia; we were separated when we came inside. She's already watching me, calmly and evenly…she's not my best friend…I've never loved anything more in my life than her. And to see her watching me with nothing but care and adoration is more than enough to put me at ease.
But…I see it and it's only for a second in such a short amount of time I think I imagine it…a flash of possessiveness and want, her eyes clouding over. But as soon as I thought I saw it…it was gone. Leaving her warm brown gaze trying to calm me. I breathe deep and slow and look around again.
My feet shuffle and the floor boards creak, making me feel like everyone is watching me again. I catch Peter watching me. I look away quickly.
Suddenly the Father is ordering all the gates and opening to the village shut and watched by several soldiers. I'm torn between relief and terror.
I lead the way back home after we go. I catch Patricia watching me as I turn away, and just for a second she smiles.
A celebration…I didn't feel much like celebrating. I felt like crying…I had since the first time Patricia rejected me so I could keep myself for my soon to husband.
But I can't. I have to be strong.
'Be good Valerie.'
Good girls don't cry for selfish things like lost love. Good girls aren't selfish…but I am…but I'm not supposed to be.
But I can't help it. I wish just once Pat would be selfish, that she'd let me be that way. I wish.
The only thing she's ever been selfish about was me, my first kiss…first crush…first fight…she's always been selfish and it's always been her about me. But this…she thinks she's doing the best thing for me, and I want it to feel good.
But it just hurts.
Everyone is wearing masks, or drinking, or dancing, or shouting. I'm just sitting and watching the others. Then I see her, she wandering around with Peter who looks like he's drinking.
Patricia's hair is down; I can see her through the flames. But still it's not neat. It's messy and shiny…like she's just washed it ran a towel over her head. It's just above her shoulders and she's looking around. There's a part of me that hopes she's looking for me…and a part of me that knows she is.
She thinks I don't know, but ever since we've known each other she's never had eyes for anyone else. And I don't want her to.
It's so selfish, but I can never help it with her.
I notice she's not in her work clothes. She's a bright blue shirt with fresh pants and shiny black boots. I can feel my heart start to pound against my ribcage. I want to go to her, to talk about something…anything.
Like how I wish my life would go back to normal.
I pretend to smile as my friends come and take my hands to try and pull me into the festivities, but my heart and mind are in two different places but I'm trying to be happy and here.
Looking around again, my papa is passed out on the cold snowy ground, vomit near his face. He's being made fun of by someone dressed as the wolf. I don't think…and before I know my feet are moving and I'm picking up a stick and slamming it over their tailbone. They jump up and step away, glaring at me. "Grow up." I hiss at him before helping my papa.
"Papa…" I help him stand, he's still a little drunk and he's rambling, I call him again and he looks at me, sad and lost and scared.
"…Valerie," He smiles only a little, the village seems full of half smiles lately. "You're a good girl." He taps a finger gently to my cheek. "You're my good girl." It makes me feel guilty that I've been so selfish. But the way he says 'I'm sorry', makes it sound like he's been very selfish too. But he couldn't be...he breaks his back twice over for his family…even a child that was never his.
"Just go home now papa, you're drunk." I didn't want him to get hurt anymore, but I had to admit I didn't want to feel guilty anymore either. "Be careful."
He snuffles a laugh as he trudges away, mumbling about how I sound like his mother.
I feel lost as I stand watching everyone have the night of their lives.
"Typical Peter," I look around quickly, knowing Pat will be with him. "Look at him…," I drown her out. Peter was clearly now drunk, trying to get Rose to dance with Pat who also seemed slightly drunk.
Rose was more than happy to try and move in on Patricia, but even drunk she pushed the girl away, although she was laughing quite a bit.
'Be a good girl Valerie.'
But I couldn't help it, anger and jealous and possessiveness rose in my heart and made me almost choke as I tried to talk. I can't help it, and before I know it I'm storming over and Pat sees me, she says something to Peter and walks away quickly.
But I'm just as quick to follow. Just once I want to be selfish and just think of me and what I want, what I know she wants. I want something that's just for me and that no one can take away.
However unfaithful that makes me…I'm tired of caring.
"Pat,"
"Don't." She calls over her shoulder, I barely hear her. Suddenly Henry is there, shoving Patricia's shoulder. I stop and watch. "What is it?" She's calm when she talks.
Something brushes my shoulder and I see Peter squeeze by and stand beside Pat.
"You both abandoned us!" Henry shouts and this time he shoves Peter who I know is glaring hard at him. "My father is dead," he was clearly drunk. I circled around so I could see the siblings clearly. "He said we should stay in a group, I said we shout stay in a group…and you both took the others and left us!"
"You should calm down." Patricia sighs; she glances at me, trying to make me understand something.
"No! My father is dead! Because of you two!" Henry snaps, glaring at each in turn.
I step forward. "Henry, please don't do this." He was making an ass of himself; I was trying to save him face. He shoves me back and Patricia pushes him away as soon as his hand touches me.
Patricia is the most peaceful person I know, I've only seen her get into a few fights in my life. But this isn't a fight, even when Henry punches her and Peter lurches forward. Pat has a hold of Henry's collar and has a small dagger to his throat.
"That woman is going to be your wife, show her some respect." She hisses. He looks terrified.
I don't want her to get into trouble for me. "Patricia." I try and keep my voice steady, but it wavers and breaks at the end.
She looks at me, her eyes are hard for a moment before they soften and she lets him go.
Henry looks around. Peter is glaring at him. "Don't ever let me catch you hitting a woman." He warns, then he sighs and follows his sister. For all his flaws he does have some standards.
I follow them, Peter is whispering quickly to his sister, she waves her hand and I see his shoulders slump and he walks away shaking his head.
I shouldn't but I follow her. I want to be selfish. I want Pat to want me to be selfish.