This story is by Angely N. Florez and was part of our 2017 Summer Writing Contest. You can find all the Summer Writing Contest stories here.
Remorse tried sneaking up on Emma, but she quickly shook it off; the deed was done, there was no point for silly sentiment now. She had already crossed the supernatural line so if she walked away from her plan now then becoming a monster would have been in vain.
Emma was aware that the full moon was essential for a complete transformation; however, she couldn’t wait for the next cycle. The weatherman predicted a grandiose thunderstorm, which provided the perfect ambiance for the deed. She patiently waited for the promised storm to announce its appearance in order to conceal the faint noise of her footsteps on the wooden floor. The young werewolf tiptoed through the house quietly stalking her prey; she smirked at how easy it was to find him. This was her moment; as he slept soundly, she knew he was defenseless against her attack. Emma’s long nails provided the perfect weapon. Soon the walls had a new vibrant color adorning them.
She had planned to kill him quickly. One deep scratch at his throat and be done with it, yet once she saw him peacefully sleeping, she decided to take her time. She felt a rush of ecstasy, though unexpected it was enthusiastically welcomed; the pumping blood coursing through her veins gave her the drive to keep striking until she was satisfied. He woke up the moment he felt the pain from the wound. Each puncture was an invitation for more blood to gush, before long her sharp fangs joined the attack; in a fit of manic and perverse joy, she began biting him and opening new wounds, letting his blood baptize the new monster. Emma laughed at his cries for help. She wasn’t worried about the noise because the thunder raging outside provided an excellent silencer, it was impossible for the neighbors to hear his screams.
This bloodthirsty killer was a side Emma had barely discovered. Her mother taught her to be polite, to respect others and to be loyal; her religion had taught her to forgive, to be compassionate and affectionate. Emma never expected to be a killer; she wanted to be the person she was supposed to be—a well-behaved, productive citizen, but she couldn’t resist the urge to spill his blood.
As she wiped her mouth with her blouse, Emma remembered how his hands felt closing at her throat, choking all fear out of her. He stopped once Emma’s sister pushed him away from her; it was then when decided she would kill him. She thought about poisoning him. After all, Wolfsbane was not only lethal to the wolves, but to humans as well, and so easy to obtain now that the werewolf gang had become a menace. Then again, she wanted him to experience the same fear she had felt. So she decided against it.
Exhausted, she dropped onto the couch. The light from the thunder illuminated the dark shadow that had followed Emma from the room to the living room. She immediately recognized the blue eyes that once upon a time had given her hope to escape her tormentor. The Wolfsbane mixed in the paint prevented Lance from entering the house. Emma was lucky she was a made werewolf instead of a born one like Lance. Wolfsbane didn’t have as much of an impact on her as it did the other werewolf. She was sure Lance was there to kill her. He had to be aware of the deal she had made with his alpha. Lance had broken the rules when he turned Emma.
Emma remembered the night she met Lance. She had wandered through the bar, looking around the riotous place without making eye contact with anyone. After a while, she gave up trying to guess which ones would accept to murder someone for money. She put down her drink on the nearest table and headed for the door.
“You look lost,” she heard a man say.
She stopped to admire the handsome man. She contemplated hiring him, but he looked too polished to be a hitman.
“I was just leaving,” she answered.
As much as Emma attempted to hide them, Lance noticed Emma’s secret. He glowered at the bruises decorating her slender neck.
“Stay a little longer,” he told her.
Emma had trusted Lance since the beginning, so she didn’t hesitate when he asked her to meet him at the Atwater River the following night, a full moon night. That night Emma witness as Lance got on the ground to drink water from the paw print in the dirt. She backed away from the scene before the others could notice her presence; however, they were too rowdy, howling at the moon while observing Lance’s initial transformation to acknowledge her presence. Emma rushed back to her car and laughed at her cowardice when she approached her vehicle. She followed the trail of big paw prints, scratches on the trees, and hair, hoping that they would lead her to Lance. She gasped when a large wolf appeared in front of her. He dropped a piece of meat and pushed it to her with his snout. He opened and closed his mouth, making a chewing motion. Emma ate it trying not gag. Once she was done, she felt all her bones rearranging themselves and her heart beating faster than usual, but she was committed living through it.
Lance had given her the strength to fight her own battles. Now, one of them had to die. Emma took one last glance at the man outside the window. She had already compromised her eternal soul in order to survive. What was one more murder?