Chapter 4: Chapter Three

My eyes open. The light stings them, and I blink rapidly to adjust to the brightness. I'm not dead. Daylight—it's actually day now. I'm still in the cabin. I know exactly where I am. That crazy man from last night, where the hell is he? I'm lying on my back on the floor, and as I look down at my body, I realize I'm completely naked. Where's my dress? My underwear? He undressed me? I feel a spark of panic. I can't tell if I've been violated. Maybe I haven't. Yet.

I look around. Now that it isn't dark, I can see everything clearly. There's no furniture in here. It's just dusty, and the door's wide open. I can see the trees outside, and I can hear the birds outside. There's not a single cloud in the sky. It's Saturday, and it's a beautiful day. Gavin would take me to the park, and maybe we'd have a picnic, or perhaps he'd take me out to lunch. He knows I love Chinese food. Then we'd get ice cream and stroll around the city hand-in-hand. I love the way my hand fits right in his. We would get home late in the evening, and we'd make love in our bed. Oh, Gavin. What's going through his head right now? Imagining him in despair is crushing and devastating. I keep expecting him to barge in here and save me, but I know that isn't going to happen. He doesn't know where I am. That guy made sure of it when he smashed my phone with his hand. He wanted to make sure no one would find out. I don't know what he intends to do with me, but whatever his intentions are, they're not good. I'm not dead yet, but I might be soon.

There's no one in here. I'm all alone. I try to move, but I can't. I try again, but I can't turn to my side. I can't feel my legs...or move them or wiggle my toes. I try to move my arms. I concentrate really hard, but I just can't do it. It's the strangest, most horrifying feeling ever. I can't move or feel my body—I'm paralyzed.

"Bea."

I look at the door. My heart starts beating fast again, and I feel a prickle of fear. That strange man is standing next to the door, dressed and staring at me. He looks different in the daylight. He's clean; the blood's gone. This isn't a dream. Last night was too real to be a dream. I don't think I'll ever forget what happened last night, even if I do make it out of here by some miracle or divine intervention. He inches closer to me. He's in a plaid shirt and jeans. I try to speak, but I can't. I screw my eyes shut and concentrate. This can't be happening to me. My head is spinning, and my tongue is heavy. My mouth is dry, and there's a bitter taste. Bile, maybe. Or vomit. What has he done to me?

"You're awake. You shouldn't be awake." There's urgency in his tone. He sounds panicked, but I'm not too sure why. Am I supposed to be dead? Is that what he means?

I lick my lips. They're cracked, and something stings when I lick them. I try to talk, but it comes out incomprehensible. I try again. "I can't feel my body."

He looks down. "I know."

"What did you do to me?" I'm strangely calm. I can't shake off the feeling of last night, of dying.

"I bit you."

He said that last night, too. I'm sure of it. I try to touch my neck, but I can't move my arm. I remember feeling two small holes and blood pouring down my neck. That wasn't a bite. "You're lying."

"I'm not." He gets closer to me. I can see his face clearly now. He looks different from last night. It's the same face, only this face is more refined somehow. "I bit you."

"Those weren't teeth marks. I felt them. Those were punctures."

"Yes. From these." He flashes his teeth, and I see his canines. I didn't know normal people had such sharp and elongated canines—they're like fangs. He stares at me again. His eyes are unnaturally green. It's like he can see right through me. Like he can smell my fear.

My voice is small. "What have you done to your teeth?"

"I was born this way." He takes a seat next to me on the floor. His eyes trail down my body. I can't move away from him as he places his hand on my thigh and squeezes. I can see him do this, but I can't feel a thing. "It's starting."

"What's starting? And where are my clothes? Why'd you undress me?" He wipes his hand on his shirt after sniffing it. He contemplates as if he's deciding whether to tell me or not. It's so frustrating. Don't I have the right to know what will happen to me? Why does he have to keep it a secret?

"The process has started already. You'll be gone in a day. Maybe tonight." He says this so calmly, I don't say a thing for a full minute. Gone? Does he mean dead? I'll be dead by tomorrow? Is this what he just said?

"Gone? So you're going to kill me? I'm going to die?" My voice is firm, despite the panic ensuing within me. He runs a hand through his hair. He's so calm; it's infuriating. If I could move, I'd scratch his face and tear his hair out of his scalp—I'd kill him. But I can't even clench my hand.

"Not exactly."

"What do you mean 'not exactly? Am I going to die, or am I not? Why have you brought me here? What do you want from me? Answer me once and for all. I want full, straight answers. I have the right to know." My throat is too sore to shout. It feels raw, and I taste some blood in my mouth.

He rubs his chin and looks at me with those eyes. Those otherworldly green eyes. What has he done to me? Why can't I move? I close my eyes and grit my teeth. I'm sure one of my molars has cracked, but I'm not concerned about that right now. "Answer me."

"I'll show you."

He shifts away from me, and I turn to look at him. Tears are blurring my vision, but I blink them away. What is it he wants to show me? Why can't he just say it? He looks down and grunts. That sound again, of snapping bones...it's coming from him. His spine curves, and hair starts sprouting out of his pores. Thick, black hair. Like the hair on his head. Like fur. His clothes are torn to shreds. His face elongates, and the sight is so hideous I close my eyes. When I open them, a beast is staring back at me. He's the beast. He turned into a monster. Oh my God. The eyes. These are the eyes I saw last night. There wasn't a dog. It was him. Or it. His hands and feet are paws now. He looks like a wolf, but not quite. Bigger.

"Werewolf?" It's real. It's all fucking real. It's not a myth or a story. It's real. This man just turned into this wolf thing right before my eyes. He moves closer, and I scream. "Get away from me!" He draws nearer despite my protests and starts sniffing my naked body. I can't even recoil. I can't do a thing to stop him.

He, or it, starts licking my skin. I can't feel a thing. It's so frustrating, I scream, and he steps away. I hear his bones snap. He's back to normal. Naked. So this is what happened when I hit him with my car? He turned into a person after I hit him? I feel his hands on my face. He's wiping my tears away. I turn my head the other way. "Don't."

He sits next to me, naked, and won't take his eyes off me. I can feel his eyes on me, but I don't look his way. I cry silent tears. Am I ever going to go home? Am I ever going to see Gavin again? Is he looking for me now? I don't even know what time it is. Will someone find my car on the road and alert the police? Maybe there's a way out. Perhaps someone will come for me and get me away from this monster.

"Are you going to eat me?" I ask because I have to know. He just turned into a carnivorous creature right in front of me. He's been smelling me this whole time. Maybe I'm just prey to him. Oh, God.

"No." He chuckles. He's laughing at me right now. There's nothing remotely hilarious about this situation. I turn to look at him. He's running his fingers through my hair, affectionately, the way Gavin does sometimes after we've had sex. He has no right to do this. I don't even know him.

"What, then?" I ask. "What's all of this for?"

All of a sudden, a rancid smell invades my nostrils, and I gag. It's awful and putrid, like something dead. Gavin found a dead mouse in the basement once; this is the same smell. The man doesn't stop stroking my hair or react to the scent. I cough, and again, there's this taste of blood in my mouth.

I think I eventually fell asleep, or I fainted because I open my eyes and it's dark. I can hear him walking around the cabin. Just pacing up and down. I open my mouth, and a whimper slips out. Something is wrong. Something is bubbling under my skin, threatening to burst out. I don't feel any pain, just the sensation.

He looks my way and sees my eyes open. "Bea." He says. His voice is so low I can barely hear him. "It's starting now. Just close your eyes. It'll be over soon."

I think I'm sweating. I look down at my body, but I can't see a thing. I still can't move. But something feels...weird. I'm trembling, but I can't feel the floor, and I can't feel pain or discomfort. Something inside me cracks, and I taste blood in my mouth. I turn my head to the side, and blood pours out of my mouth. I'm horrified. "What's happening?"

"It'll be over soon." He sounds anguished. Scared, even. "Just close your eyes and go back to sleep."

I can't. I can't ignore this feeling, this awful sensation, as if I'm floating. The rotten smell from earlier is stronger now. More blood pools in my mouth, and I spit it out. The man is at my side now. I turn, and I see my hand in his. Suddenly, my lungs are on fire. I can't breathe. It's like I'm being choked, and my neck is about to snap in two. "Let go. Don't fight it."

He's kneeling beside me. This goes on forever. If this is what dying is, it's terrible. Frightening. It's the worst feeling in the world. I remember almost drowning in the pool when I was eight. Not being able to breathe and choking on chlorinated water. It was so traumatizing that I haven't stepped foot in a pool since, and I can't stand the sight of any large body of water. This feels like it. I'm choking on more blood. Everything burns. The pain in my chest is excruciating. My body's alive in the worst way possible. I couldn't feel a thing before, and now, I feel it all—every kind of pain imaginable. I can't fight it much longer. I let go.

The last thing I see are his eyes, bright green in the dark. He holds his hand above my face. Something warm pours into my mouth.

I close my eyes.