Werewolves & Witches

Chapter 4

I stare ahead, not really knowing what I’m looking at.  Maybe open space?  I’m not really looking at anything.  I’ve neve felt so numb in my mind before. I violently rub my hands over my face, knowing I have to get out of bed, but mentally I just don’t have the strength.  I grunt. What am I going to do?  Knowing that there’ people out there, feeling like this.  I wouldn’t even wish this feeling on my worst enemy.  I don’t even know who I am anymore.

I c***k my knuckles, feeling satisfied with the knacking sound.

It feels like I need to cry but nothing comes out.  I feel heavy.

“Get a grip, Rosalie.” I snarl at myself and finally get myself out of the bed. The sun is already shining high in the sky.  Everyone knows I’m already up, even before the sun is up, so I need to make an appearance eventually.

When I enter the kitchen mom is sitting on the table with her head resting on her hands.

“Oh, you’re awake.” She almost seems alarmed when she sees me.

“Yeah.” I say, even though I just want to roll my eyes at her.  Or curl up in an emotional ball next to her, I don’t even know.  

“How did you sleep?” She asks and I suddenly remember the incident of last night and how I yelled in my dream.  The dream.  About mom.  I briefly close my eyes and push it away.

“Fine.” I lie.  I slept awful.  I kept thinking about things I shouldn’t.

“Are you hungry?” She asks, her voice extra high.  No, not really. Since yesterday it feels like I lost my appetite.  As if sorrow is feeding me rather than food.  But I need to eat.

“Just a little.” I say, knowing that it wouldn’t make any difference on how she dishes up.  I almost eat as much as the pack does.  And they literally eat like hungry wolves.

I sit at the small wooden table in the corner of the kitchen.  A cold breeze seeps through my light blue cloak and I wrap it tighter around my body.  My attention falls on the table and how everything is perfectly connected and smooth.  Mom made it. When she started living here, pregnant with me, there was no furniture.  The pack lived like wolves even though they were actually werewolves.  Not entirely wolves.  So mom made tables, chairs and beds.  She even let dad sell them at markets.  And her medicines.  When we get sick we never have to fear because mom always has her ways to know what’s wrong and make the perfect cure for us.  Just like yesterday when she saw something wrong in my eyes.  But I know there isn’t a way that she will ever be able to fix it.

“Here.” I jerk my head at mom’s sudden voice.  She puts a plate with steaming eggs and bread in front of me and my favourite goblin filled with warm milk. Oh.  She didn’t dish up a lot like I thought she would.  I look at her and give her a small smile, “Thank you.”

She doesn’t smile back or say I’m welcome like she always does, but frowns.  I quickly look down, for her to not look deeper in my eyes. I break a piece of fresh bread and force it in my mouth.  I’ve got to control this.  I can’t let anyone notice what's sitting in my soul.

I take another bite and chew it with slow bites.  I take a big swig out of the milk, burning my tongue and somehow I don’t flince. I kind of like the sensation.  I put a whole cooked egg in my mouth, puffing the challenging burn out of my mouth.

“Wow, slow down, it’s all yours.”  At least that didn’t change. I turn, to look at dad, he’s face creased in a deep frown and mom’s face turns worried as she dad’s expression.

“What?” She says, pulling her attention completely away from the kitchen and onto dad.

“Blake is gone.”

I’m going to throw up.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, I was at the market.  No one seems to have noticed him.  He didn’t say where he was going or anything.”

I swallow, hoping mom or dad won’t see my face splashed with guiltiness.  Calm down Rosalie.  I can’t let them see.

“Did he run away?”  I ask, knowing that what I would’ve asked if I was my normal self.

“I don’t know.” Dad swipes his hands through his hair, looking defeated.  What have I done?

When I notice mom staring at me, she quickly looks away and bite her nails. A thing she does when she’s stressed.  She’s like a mother to the pack. 

What would I have done? If it was me.  Normal me.  The me I was yesterday.  I suck in a sharp breath.  How could life change so quickly?

“What are we going to do?” I ask, standing from my chair.  I try to sound confident, the way I always am but actually I just want to creep in a corner and cry.

“The others are already looking for him.”

“Well, can I help?”  I don’t sound as enthusiastic as I should.

“No.” I feel somewhat relieved at his answer but also scared at his stern eyes, “The interfectores are on the loose.  I can smell them.”  Interfectors?

I frown when I hear a surprised gasp escape mom’s mouth.

“What’s that?” I feel stupid asking the question.  The words line up  somewhere in my mind but I can't place them. The answer is on the tip of my tongue, from somewhere I heard someone talking about it.

“It’s,” dad sighs, as if he’s not in the mood to talk about it now, “people who don't obey or follow the law.  They’re sometimes the most powerful beings on earth.”  He looks at me, with a look that tells me, I’m one of them too.

“Sometimes they come hunting, just because they can.” Mom continues with big eyes.

I frown.  Isn’t that what I am? An interfectore.  I’m not obeying the law.  Not because I don’t want to but I’m being forced to.  Isn’t this making mom and dad interfectores as well.

I don’t say anything feeling a rush of adrenaline through my body.  Maybe I belong with them.

“Oh.” I say looking down.

“You stay here with your mom, you hear me.”  Dad urges.

I nod and both mom and dad’s faces turn into a frown but they shake it off.

“Be vigilant.” Dad warns before he leaves with a fast stride.

“Promise me you won't leave me?” Mom begs, placing her hands on her hips and sniffing.

I purse my lips. “I promise.” I say, it seems like words I’ll never say.  I know my  character.  I’m stubborn.  But I don’t care.  I walk past mom looking stunned, towards my room and fall on my bed.  I close my eyes, feeling the need for sleep.  If I sleep I won’t feel this feeling in my heart. It’ll just go away.

I open my eyes, feeling something terribly wrong.  I feel a cold wetness all over my bottom and legs.  I pull my head up, feeling weak and scream.

Mom runs in holding a pan raised above her head,but when she sees me, the pan drops.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know?”  I don’t know why I’m covered in blood.  Or something red.  Maybe this is just one of the pack’s pranks. No. What is going down.  I pull myself out of the bed, to see if there is any wounds or something.  I don’t understand. There’s none. There’s also no visible pain on my skin.

“Mom.” I say panicky.  What is this? What's happening to me? This can’t be a prank.

“It’s okay.” Mom says in a calm voice, plucking the sheets from the bed.  It’s okay? What does she mean?

“What?”  My voice comes out in a gasp.

“Calm down, Rosalie.”  Why?  Why should I calm down? What the hell is happening to me?

“You’re a woman now.” Oh.  All my nerves falter and calmness takes over.  I’m becoming a woman.  A few days ago I would’ve been excited to become a woman but now I just feel nothing.  I’ve witnessed mom get menstruation for a week every month so it’s nothing completely new to me.

“Come with me.” Mom instructs me.  I follow her with my pants sticking uncomfortably to my skin.  Gross. She throws the dirty sheets in the bucket already filled with water.  I take off my pants and throw it in as well, seeing how the red liquid separates from the material in the water.  Mom throws warm water in another, smaller bucket with some brownish powder. I stand as coldness wraps around my bare legs.  I feel like a fragile doll being cared for. Usually I would’ve been doing this for myself.  I hated to be physically cared for.

“Get in.” Mom says and I strip down all my clothes and climb into the mild warm water.

I kneel down to let the water cover my lower stomach.  I sigh in relief.

“Are you okay?” Mom asks, rubbing my hair caringly and I nod enthusiastically.  I feel better now.

“Thanks mom.” I say.

“I’m always here if you need to talk.” She says and I swallow.  She knows something is up.

“I’ve just been having some stomach aches.  Guess we know now why.” I lie.  I didn’t get any aches or pains.  BUt I see a satisfied look on mom's face as she nods.  

“This is part of being a woman.”

Oh no.  Am I going to get the dreaded talk again?  The talk I’ve been receiving since I was like twelve?

“Your emotions are going to play with you.”  She wipes her nose with the back of her hand, “You’re not always going to feel like yourself.”

I it just was the menstruation making me feel like I feel right now.  If it was that, it could’ve gone away, just like mom’s mood swings.

“Hormones are a funny thing.”  She looks at me sternly.  She sighs, combing her fingers through my long hair.

“Yeah.” I say, sniffing.  I’ve witnessed mom’s changing personality almost every month.  I had to keep it silent cause whenever I was cheeky back at her she would throw me with something.  Only for me to throw it back at her.  Now I have an excuse.  I chuckle to myself, thinking how everyone in the pack stays away from mom when she’s that time of the month.  Oh no.  They can smell it.  Now they’re going to smell me.

“Do you think they found Blake?” I ask as I can’t stop thinking about dad and what he said earlier.

“I don’t know.” Mom blows air out of her nose. She sits on the wooden grandpa chair, in front of me.  She rocks back and forth, staring ahead and fumbling with her hands, “Strange things are happening  out there, my dear.”

I bite my lips, tasting blood as it seeps in my mouth.  I’m part of those strange things.  It’s because of me that Blake is dead.  I look down, feeling a horrible sensation of killing someone.  It’s bad. It’s so bad.

“Mom?”

“Yes, dear?”

The way she’s acting now.  So gentle and caring makes me wish that I could tell her.  Tell her what I’ve done.  Tell her what a bad person I am.  I clench my teeth rubbing the block of soap over my body.  It smells of lavender.  Mom’s favourite.  My favourite is roses.  But roses are so hard to find.

“Am I a interfectore?” Mom’s eyes widen at my question.

“No, why would you think that?” She stands and grabs the towel from the ground and wraps it around my body as I climb out.

“Well, I'm not obeying the law.” I point out.

“Well, this is different.  You’re not a killer.”

I briefly close my eyes, feeling nausea build in my stomach.

But I am, mom.  I’m a monster.