AN: I was so psyched to finish this fic over the summer (Well; the rough draft.) and then things happened, and now I won't have time. Brilliant.
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Superkassu: I'm glad you had this response. I hope the rest of my readers are getting the message as clearly as you are.
[10] SMILES
November 16, 5:15 PM
20. Lea
I pause where a stream of rainwater is running off a roof and take the time to rinse the majority of the blood off my hands. The gore caked around and under my nails will have to wait until I get back to the house.
The dog, though I realize it's definitely not a dog, is standing behind me when I turn around, tail wagging.
"What?" I say to the dog-like thing.
It doesn't reply of course; it just tilts its head.
I watch the animal for a few seconds before I turn to start walking. It keeps following. After about a minute of hearing its claws clicking against the ground, I give up.
"You're not a dog," I say.
The pace of the steps behind me speed up so the creature is next to me. It makes no noise.
"But you can't talk," I continue.
Its tail wags faster. That means yes.
"I don't get it," I say, "it was a kitten. If that's not messed up I don't know what is."
The dog makes no response.
"Yes," I snap, as if it has, "I've had the weird dreams and stuff, but I don't act on them. It wasn't until you egged me on that I—," I break off, covering my face with one bloody hand.
The dog stops walking when I do. Not bothering to hide the unnaturalness, it gazes at me with menacing eyes. I look into them and, again, feel the bloodlust in me trying to get loose. I look away before it can and continue walking.
"Why are you following me?" I ask, not expecting a reply and not getting one. I just keep talking after a second, "I didn't even feed you."
That gets a growl and I interpret it as a scornful laugh.
"I don't know what you are," I say, "but my head is empty and my hands know how to gut a cat." I stop talking, just thinking about what I said.
I cross the road, the dog still following me, and make my way towards the familiar slanting roof of the house. I pause. The creature stops beside me.
"You can't go in there," I say, "they have a cat and a dog already. Not that I would care if you got the dog."
It sits down. I look at the animal for a long time and it looks back at me with those terrifying eyes. Again there's the feeling inside me, the desire to kill. I break eye contact.
"What's wrong with me?" I ask, helpless.
The dog presses its head against my leg and thumps its tail against the ground. "Nothing," it's saying without words, "nothing at all."
I reach down and rub its head. The fur is thick under my fingers and surprisingly soft. Something sparks in the back of my head—Running hands through soft fur, listening to the content growling. I know the creature could kill me on the spot if it wanted to. A light touch on my shoulder; a plea for attention, and I turn my head to glance back—
I remove my hand from the dog's head sharply, my head pounding. I'm feeling sick again. I step away from the creature and it gets up.
"Goodbye then," I say, and take one step away. Yet again I stop.
"On the chance that you, uh, you know me, will you send someone up here? Because I—," I feel my voice catch slightly, "I'm not sure how long I can last."
There's the thump, thump, thump, of its tail against the ground in response.
I nod, not looking back, and walk the rest of the way to the house. I shake out my hair in the entrance way, water droplets flying in all directions. When I look up I see the twins across the room from me, watching TV in remarkable quiet.
Kip starts barking, or yapping, at me. He comes tearing towards me, teeth bared, ready to bite, and I prepare myself to kick him. In self-defense, of course. Instead the dog falls short, nose twitching. His stump of a tail goes down low and his ears go back. He whimpers. I watch as Kip slinks under the table, trembling.
I pull off my jacket, hang it up, and then untie my shoes. My jeans are soaked too, but I leave those on.
"Lea, honey," Kaylee calls from upstairs, "that Neil boy was on the phone for you a few minutes ago."
I scowl and call, "Okay, thanks for telling me."
Poe meets me on the stairs, purring. I reach down one hand, which he sniffs, and then he hisses loudly. The cat arches his back, fur on end, and backs off into the hallway. I watch in silence, thinking about blood on my hands and whimpering meows and how good it felt to let go and kill something.
I walk up the stairs past the cat and then to the ladder to my room. On the pillow is a red candy, as if my visitor knew I would need a pick-me-up. I pop the candy into my mouth and think about the color of guts as the flavor washes over me.