Little Red Sweetheart

What Large Hands You Have

    1:42

    I knock on the large oak door again. I think back to yesterday wondering if I misheard Gale, but I could’ve sworn she had said to be here exactly at 1:30. I figured she wouldn't mind when I got here a little earlier than she asked, but no answer. And still no answer, even though it is 12- make that 13 minutes after the time I was supposed to get here.

    I’m about to knock one last time when I hear Gale call out. “Sorry dear, I’m feeling a little sick today, just let yourself in, the key is under the flower pot!”

    I look up realizing she must’ve called from the bedroom window that overlooks the front door. 

    “Uh, ok!” I call back, and follow her instructions. I feel ashamed. I hope that bringing what I assume was her medicine late yesterday didn’t cause her to fall ill. 

    Entering her home, something feels off. Maybe it’s because I’ve never been in her home completely alone before, but it’s so quiet and still. The smell of something baking wafts through the air, bringing me some relief, after all she can’t be that sick if she’s still baking. I gently grasp the medallion through my shirt, still feeling a little on edge. There's the sound of hacking and coughing from upstairs. I quickly hurry up, dropping my bag on the couch, following the sounds coming from her bedroom, still not quite able to shake that uneasy feeling settling in my chest.

    “Mrs. Donin? Hey, is it alright for me to come in? I can always come back tomorrow if you’re not feeling well”

    “Oh, no, no, it’s alright, just come in.”

    I furrow my eyebrows. Something is off. I can tell. It sounds just like her, but there is just something that is not right. I think about calling Pops and seeing if he knows anything, but I’m still mad at him about last night. I really don’t feel like calling him right now. I sigh, and enter.

    The room is dark. I squint my eyes, trying to get them to adjust. Gale is resting in the bed, curled up under the hand sewed quilts.

    “Gale?” A cacophony of coughs answers me in response.

    “I left the package downstairs, like I said, if you’re not feeling well I can come in tomorrow.” I say slowly, hoping that she points out she didn’t have a delivery today.

    “Oh, thank you so much Rose, and don’t worry, please stay, I wanted to talk to you.”

    s**t. s**t. s**t. s**t. s**t.

    This isn’t Gale.

    My blood runs cold but somehow I force out, “I actually don’t have too much time to talk, I know I said I could talk for a little like normal, but there’s actually a sudden delivery and I have to get on that soon.”

    “Rose,” whoever is under the covers says in that sickly similar voice, “We both know that's a lie. Why would you lie to a poor old woman.”

    I watch in horror as they sit up out of the covers, falling back to reveal their true identity.

    “Now, tell me where that f*****g moon damned medallion is,” they say, their voice slowly returning to a much more fitting gravelly growl. 

    “You’re a wolf,” I respond dully, my eyes wide as I stare at the ghastly scar covering half of the man’s face. His mangy grayish-brown hair is matted with what I hope is just mud. The yellow-stained wife-beater he’s wearing is ragged and I wonder when the last time it’s been washed is. 

    “Heh, no s**t dumbass. Now where is it?” He growls, snapping me out of my thoughts. Thinking quickly I spit out, “My bag, I left it downstairs.”

    That’ll save me some time, but I gotta think fast.

    “You heard her boys!” He snarls, and I hear other people move outside the door, closing it behind me. My heart sinks, I was really hoping it was just him. “Now that that’s out of the way, let me get a good look at you…”

    He slinks towards me, the stench of musty old clothes and blood hitting me as he inches closer. I hide my fear as best I can, trying to formula some sort of plan.

    “A nice reward, for a well won victory,” he breathes, taking in my scent. “I’ma have so much fun f*****g your brains out bitch.”

    He lunges forward to grab me but instead of stepping back like he intended I rush forward with a yell, kneeing him hard in the balls. It knocks the air out of him as I hear him groan in pain. Despite the overwhelming temptation to kick him as hard as I can in the head I hold back. This is my chance to run and I can’t waste it. Whipping around, I bolt out the door, thanking every deity I can think of that it didn’t have a lock on the outside. I rush down the hallway, just to find the two other men that must’ve accompanied the other on their way up the stairs. Times up.

    They sprint towards me, wolf fangs bared, their friend probably told them what I did through a mind-link.

    s**t. s**t. s**t. f**k. f**k. f**k.

    I stop hard in my tracks, looking for a new escape route. 

    “Get that f*****g b***h!” The first man howls, stumbling out of the bedroom from behind me. I grab the nearest door and dash in. There’s a lock and I flip it up. Using all of my strength, I tip over a bookshelf to block the entrance. The snarls from outside start to send me into my flashbacks. The blood. The blood. The blood. I grab my head, I don’t have time for this. The door cracks a bit, already struggling to keep the Werewolves out. I need more time. I grab another door without thinking and throw myself in, locking it behind me.

    I’m in a bathroom that’s practically bare with no windows. I must have run into a guest room. I desperately search for anything that can be used to reinforce the door. Screw it, I think and start tossing anything I can find at the door. Emptying every cabinet, piling toilet paper and towels, but it’s not nearly enough to stop them. I let out a scream of frustration and pull out my phone. Quickly, I select Pops.

    Ring. Ring. Ring.

    No answer. 

    “No. No, no, no, no, no! Pops, I need you now, don’t do this!” I cry, tears welling up on my face. There’s a loud snapping of wood.

    Who can I call? Who can I call? f**k, who can get here before they… before they kill me?

    Suddenly a thought pops into my mind. I sigh and run a hand down my face.

    Sitting down and bracing myself against the sink cupboards, I put my feet on the door to hold it shut once the lock inevitably breaks. I fumble my wallet out of my pockets and whip out the card. The door slams forward and I scream in surprise.

    “Little piggy, little piggy, let me in,” a man taunts. I hear snickering and then the pounding begins. The door whines in protest but stays together. For now. My hands shake as I try to type the number into my phone. The pounding stops. I look up in surprise.

    “Listen, we know you have that medallion. That’s all we really want, you give it to us and we’ll let you go.” It’s the first man.

    “Bullshit!” I spit back. Growls rise up, then cut out.

    “Why, we’re just trying to make a deal, come on girlie.”

    I ignore it, knowing they’re just trying to take me off my guard. Quickly, I put in the last number and hit call.

    Please pick up, please pick up.

    Ring. Ring. Ring.

    No answer. My heart sinks. It was just another joke. And right on cue, the pounding starts again.