While trying to get my head on straight, I managed to fall into a fitful sleep. However, when the door to my room opened, it was a relief to be pulled from fresh nightmares. Where I was expecting a nurse or even doctor, instead, I was greeted by two tall men clad in boots, jeans, and flannels, with patches sewn to their hats indicating that they were members of the Fish & Wildlife Commission for the state. They stood, awkwardly, at the end of my bed, studying my face and taking in the nondescript hospital room.
The shorter of the two men introduced them, "My name is Dean and this is my partner, Sam. We work for the uh, Fish and Wildlife Commission."
Sam spoke up now, "We'd like to ask you a few questions about last night."
I scrambled to understand what anyone from the fish and wildlife commission would want to talk to me about until I realized that these men had never met the devil and probably believed that my parents were killed by a rabid, wild animal.
I rubbed my forehead just above my left eyebrow, eyes squinting shut, impatience and anxiety and the overwhelming urge to flee from the situation burning strongly inside of me.
"I already told the doctor and the police officers, I do not remember what happened last night."
"Listen, uh," Dean looked around the room, finding my name written on the whiteboard for the nurses and doctors to reference, "Maggie," he said, gesturing to my name, "we've been doing this job for a really long time. My partner and I have seen things. There's nothing you can say to either of us right now that is going to freak us out."
I let out a huff of air, frustrated at this man pushing back when I already explained that I didn't know anything.
"You're never going to believe me."
I flinched at my own confession. Clearly, a statement like that was incriminating enough. Surely, a crew of nurses would be showing up momentarily to force me into a straight jacket.
"Try us." Sam said.
Something about their gazes was both intense and disarming.
Tears welled up in my eyes and my chest got that too tight feeling while my face started to heat up. I remained resolutely silent, averting my gaze from the two men.
Dean took several slow steps around the side of the bed, sitting on the edge. I refused to look at him, but I knew - I could feel - him studying my reactions.
"You said you went to bed around 11 last night?" asked Sam, still from where he was standing at the end of the bed.
"Yes." It felt safer to look at Sam, so my eyes made their way to him.
"So you fell asleep around 11, but you don't remember how you ended up outside or how your parents ended up outside or how they ended up mauled to death." Sam's tone shifted. It was subtle. It wasn't accusatory, not yet, but it could be.
Fresh tears streamed down my face.
"You didn't hear anything? Didn't smell anything? No flickering lights?" Sam continued to push.
The question struck me as odd, but I didn't have time to think about why because unbridled fear was bubbling just beneath the surface. The burden of not knowing what I saw was eating at me, and I'd only been awake for a couple of hours. Not to mention, lying was not my strong suit and the guilt and fear of lying was mounting.
Dean decided to speak up when several tense seconds of silence passed.
"You know, it's a crime to lie to the authorities, Maggie. We just want to help. We want to make sure no one else gets hurt."
I finally looked back at Dean sitting on my bed. He was intimidating, eyes flashing something dangerous for a moment when he spoke about lying to the authorities.
My resolve was cracking, crumbling actually, under the weight of this stupid interrogation.
"It's not that I'm lying, it's just that this isn't your area." I started, hesitantly.
"What do you mean?" Dean prompted.
"You're right." I sniffed, taking a moment to wipe the tears off of my face. I finally met Dean's intense gaze, his green eyes locking with mine, "That wasn't an animal that attacked my parents. It was a man."
I was impressed that their faces remained neutral. They didn't flinch at my confession. I supposed they must deal with enough nut-cases that believe in bigfoot that they've learned to keep a good poker face.
"What did the man look like?" Sam asked, pulling out a pen and notepad from the pocket of his flannel.
"I didn't get a good look at him. Honestly. But he… The one thing I did see…well…" I couldn't get my mouth to explain to them that this man had glowing red eyes. That was the kicker. That was the confession that was going to make all of this fall apart.
I considered for a moment that perhaps if I really am crazy, maybe admitting it will help work towards a treatment. So when the next words tumbled out of my mouth, a sense of calm, the calm of accepting my own insanity, settled over me.
"His eyes glowed red, ok? And I didn't get a good look at his face, because it was so dark, but he was strong. I watched my parents get ripped apart and he just stood there, laughing. He didn't even have a weapon in his hands, so I don't know how he did it. I was on the back porch and he picked me up from where he was standing in that field, like he was some goddamned jedi, and dragged me out to him. My feet didn't even touch the ground and then he threw me into a tree." There was defensive frustration in my voice and a twinge of panic. I carried on, trying to protect myself from whatever judgment or awful diagnoses awaited me.
"I know it sounds insane, I do. Maybe, my brain doesn't know how to cope with what it actually saw and this is all just some sort of… trauma response, or something. But you know what? Whatever did this? It was some sort of monster."
My voice had pitched higher, tears streaming freely down my face again. I took a slow, shuddering breath through my nose and let it out slowly, calming myself however I could.
Dean twisted his upper body to face me fully, his hand resting on my calf.
"You're not insane. We believe you."
Whatever threats I had seen in his face and eyes before had melted away. Instead, I saw true empathy etched in the wrinkles next to his eyes and in the softening of his brow. This was the empathy of someone who has seen some shit, too. Looking at his partner, I saw the same acceptance in his sympathetic smile. I took another breath and nodded, relief washing over me.
"Maggie, monsters are real." Sam started, his voice gentle and filled with compassion. "Demons, vampires, werewolves, and witches? All of them exist. My brother and I," he gestured between himself and Dean, "we hunt them. It's the family business."
My breath hitched as my brain processed his words.
"Wait, so you're not from the fish and wildlife commission?"
"No." Dean answered quickly. "But, uh, if we could keep that between just us for now…"
"Right, right." I answered even quicker.
"Listen to me," Dean gave your calf a little squeeze. "We're going to find the thing that did this, ok? And we're going to kill it. And I promise we'll keep you safe. We aren't going to let anything happen to you."