Chapter 5

Kierra

I'm dreaming again.

The same dream I've had for years. In this dream I'm running; running from a man dominating my past. No matter how fast or how far I flee, he always finds me. I'm always a little girl of seven or eight years old, always running alone...however this time it changes.

I'm grown, but still running. I'm not alone in this dream, I never am usually, but this time there's someone or something running with me as well as after me. It comes in flashes, one minute a man, the next a large black wolf. He runs beside me through scenery that constantly changes, but always shrouded in shadow. Then it alters again.

The wolf and man are gone, and I'm alone in a dark room. My old bedroom. The lighting is dim, as it always is. Two beds are pushed together; mine and Faline's.

A small, square room with an open doorway to the living room and a closed door leading to the bathroom. Faline's bed is against the wall, mine on the outer edge. She's asleep, as is mom in her bed in the living room.

The large window in there faces our bedroom doorway, letting the moonlight in. I'm laying there trying to sleep, but too scared to lose consciousness. I thought about crawling into my sisters to try and sleep there, but didn't want to get in trouble again.

I watch shadows play against the ceiling when I hear his heavy footsteps. Eyes clench shut, hoping he'll go away. Twisting my hands into the material beneath me, I hold my breath hoping he'll pass me by and just head for the bathroom.

If only I was so lucky.

His footsteps stop on the edge of my bed. I can feel him staring at me through my closed lids. My bed stands about two feet off the floor, piled up blankets and clothes add another foot or so. He still has to bend down to reach me, but this time he doesn't.

I feel his weight settle on the bed next to me, I can hear him breathe. Eyes feel hot as they start to water. My nightgown is pink and goes down to just below my knees, short-sleeved with little ruffles at the cuffs and hem. Right now it's twisted around my knees, binding my legs together.

I never used a blanket, I'd just kick it off at some point. I always end up regretting it, wishing my brain would just let my body swelter.

The bed moves slightly as he adjusts himself, his hands creeping up my legs to the gown's hem. I clench my legs together, trying to keep the nightgown stuck between them. He doesn't let that stop him, pulling it out with very little trouble.

The cloth is then pushed up my legs to bunch at my waist. I lock my ankles together, tears starting to race down the sides of my face to my ears. His hands feel huge and rough against my skin. Hooking his fingers in my panties at the waist, he pulls them down.

Faline shifts in her sleep, turning from her stomach to her side facing the wall. Her light snore is the only sound that can be heard. He froze for only a minute before he wedges a hand between my knees to pull my underwear off.

I whimper, trying to move away. He grabs my leg, holding me in place with a single meaty hand. A hand so large it goes all the way around my small leg.

He pulls me closer to him, I can feel him bend down towards my face. His breath reeks of cigarette smoke and rotten milk. He keeps his face next to mine as a reminder to not make any more noise. I still carry the bruise of his teeth from the last time.

The hand is moving up the inside of my leg, my skin grows icy cold as I try to distance my brain from my body. Trembles and shakes overtake my small form. When the appendage reaches my inner thigh, my body jerks, protesting his touch.

Hot tears are streaming down my face, his lips catching a few as he licks them away. His hand settles against me, I can't help it, I scream.

I wake with a start, shooting to my feet, almost falling from my limbs not wanting to work. Eyes wild as I look around, ready to hit something, anything that is close to me. The breath is harsh in my lungs as my fear overtakes my mind for several seconds.

Whirling to look around me, making sure no one is at my back, my gaze is wild. I'm coated in blood, dried, stiff, and reeking. Other scents finding me make my belly churn.

Some I recognize; blood, urine, unwashed skin. A tang on the back of my tongue makes me gag, the smell of old sex. My eyes finally adjust to what I'm looking at, but it isn't what I'm expecting.

Where am I?

My brain starts to hurt fiercely as I remember what had happened to cause all the blood. Panting, I clutch at my head. I had made it home, but that's not where I am now.

Glancing down my body, it seems that the awful smells are coming from me. My pants are damp from my bladder emptying. Don't even want to think of the other scents coming from me are and what they're from.

Looking around the room I'm in reveals no windows and dim light from a bare light bulb hanging from the water-stained ceiling. The concrete floor has several puddles and stains, including the one my body had left. Walls are dingy, dank, and covered in a yellowed wallpaper that's peeling away.

I'm in a bedroom, or an equivalent thereof. There's a small bed in one corner, a cot on a metal frame is more like it though. My eyes linger on the hanging cuffs at its head and foot, a small, almost threadbare blanket is bunched up on it. Dark stains on the cot make my stomach clench.

A small end table with an even smaller T.V. sitting on it stands about two feet away from the cot but still against the wall, facing the bed. A box sitting in another corner holds clothes and garbage, which is falling from it. The smell isn't all that pleasant either. The floor is littered with empty beer cans and bottles, papers and dirty clothes.

Oh, my aching head. I dig dirty fingertips into my temples. Something is missing.

My glasses!

I had them during the fight...didn't I? A picture of them flying off as my body goes flying backward flashes through my head. I blink at the bed, seeing it clearly. The television is clear as day too.

I can see!

But how? Why? I've had to wear glasses for years, yet everything I look at is as clear as day. No squinting, no fogginess. Crystal clear.

I can also hear scratching, at first thought it was my headache making me hear things, but now realize what I'm hearing is a critter. Most likely a mouse or rat. My eyes rake around the room once more looking for any rodents. They don't scare me, but it's healthy to know where they are if around you.

A door slams somewhere above me. I turn and crouch down where I stand, putting the wooden door in front of me instead of at my back. I look around for something to put in front of it.

There's nothing that would be heavy enough, so I back up against the wall, farthest from it. My breathing comes fast as my heart pounds, but not quite as laboring as when I had woken. Not yet anyway.

Voices find me, harsh and gravelly. Almost guttural. Sounds like two men, one I don't recognize. My head cocks as the other tickles at memories in the back of my head.

"Did you grab the beer? What room she in? God, I can't wait. Old for my tastes, but if nothing else, we can sell her."

"She's in the basement, the far room. She's a bit messy right now though, looks like she got into one hell of a fight. I was gonna clean her off, but couldn't find the time, so I just dosed her whenever I had the chance. I can't wait for you to see her though. She's the one I told you about. I was gonna grab her sister too, but she wasn't at the house."

What the hell is going on here? Sell me? My insides are starting to cramp and my legs twitch as if they need to move. My skin crawls at the sound of their voices.

I can move my left arm a little bit, it jumps and twitches as if the muscles underneath are moving. My collarbone still screeches at me, but not as bad as it had.

I feel my pockets; my keys are gone, as are my phone and wallet. Biting my lip harshly, the fleeting thought and small groan goes through my head as to why hadn't I used it after Faline was taken. Feeling ashamed and guilty that I didn't handle everything better.

Faline. Where are you?

I hope she's alright for the moment. Clearly, these guys don't have her.

"I will find you Faline, just hold on."

I whisper as footsteps come closer, till they're right at the door. My stomach is hurting so bad I want to curl into the fetal position and cry. I settle for crouching down lower and bracing my arms out, trying to ready myself for anything.

My chest and belly twinge as the wounds I have remind me pointedly that they're there. There's constant pressure against my left arm, but I ignore it and clench my hands. It hurts, but not as much as it probably should. Can't worry about or look at it now though, as the door is unlocking and opening.

"...shouldn't be awake, but be careful, I didn't tie her down."

I don't recognize the first man through, he's just under six foot, wearing a dirty, rumpled t-shirt and stained blue jeans. Dirty blonde hair is edged with gray and looks like it hasn't been washed in weeks while his eyes are a nondescript brown that are too close together, looking shiny as if he's on something. His face is pudgy with being obviously overweight, a beak nose completes his ruddy face.

Angry green eyes flash as I glare at him, belly overflowing the shirt and overlapping his pants. My lips pull back in a snarl. He stops short, looking at me with raising eyebrows and a smirk.

I'm so going to claw out his eyes.

He moves into the room and to the side so his companion can come in. I didn't get a good look at him behind fat-ass, but now as I do, I shoot to my feet once more. My shoulder protests as it's jerked, muscles tightening and releasing over and over.

"You!"

His hair is a severely receding dark gray that's shaved close to his head. Piercing blue-gray eyes peek out from a face full of facial hair. Even with it, I know who he is. Over six-foot, he's gained more weight with his age, becoming quite round in the middle. He stands there in a tight shirt tucked into droopy jeans, leering at me.

I become very scared. Scared of a childhood fear. The bane of my nightmares. I stand there staring at him, my body starting to shake. Without looking away from me, he closes the door behind him and leans against it.

"So, Fred, what do you think? I know she's older now, but she was a favorite of mine when she was young. So feisty and defiant."

His voice is still low, a monotone to cause dread.

"Damn James, you really know how to pick 'em."

A cold sweat breaks out over my heated body, the hair on my head prickles and stands on end. My insides cramp in earnest as I feel something moving beneath the surface of my skin. Mouth aching and popping as I shake uncontrollably, I stare at the one against the door.

James.

The other obviously named Fred.

"Shit man, what'd you do to her? She's covered in blood. Stinks to."

"Told you she was messy. She was like that when I grabbed her. Looks like she got into a bad fight before she came home. Passed out cold just inside her door. Still made sure she'd stay out though. I could only get here a few times before now, but I kept her dosed up. She's actually amazingly clean for having been here for three days."

James takes a step closer to me; I tense up. His friend, Fred, is all eyes as he watches me. I glance over at him, but my childhood fear begins to talk again. Three days?

"I watched you, you know. Both you and your sister. I've been to your place several times. It took me a while to find you at first, but I did it. I remembered where your grandparents lived, so I set something up to watch the place that would alert me when people came and left, then just had to follow you back. I almost lost you, but not too many people live out where you do. Your neighbors were only too happy to help me find my long lost daughter."

I cringe. No way in hell. He and my mother dated, but he in no fucking hell is or was my...father.

"I saw Faline recently, she almost caught me. I got too close that day, so I knew I had to make my move fast after that. I owe you for the time that I was held in that jail. Too bad for that technicality that released me."

She never mentioned that she had seen anyone by the house lately. Damnit! And what fucking technicality? He was fucking guilty! He even had two previous charges of the same nature!

My fingers pop and really start to hurt as they curl at my sides. The blood on my clothes smells awful, but that's probably because it's mixing with the other scents coming from me and elsewhere. Sweat, urine and body odor. Coming in loud and clear. Three days? No...

Fred laughs as he steps to the side coming closer to me. They're both about eight feet away, but as he steps closer, I panic. The small television is next to me on its stand. I grab it, tearing the cord out of the wall and throw it at James, noting only briefly that they've gotten close enough to reach me.

James' eyes go wide as the TV hits him in the arm as he raises it to block. I try to run past him, but Fred catches my hair, jerking me back. My skull feels like it's about to be pulled apart, the constant pounding becoming worse.

I have no time to scream as I fall back. I can see James' fist coming at my face and connecting with my jaw. I stagger and fall onto my left side, gasping. My whole body shakes with the force of pain that shoots along my arm.

My whole face hurts as I work at not blacking out. I lay there counting the seconds. He may be in his fifties, maybe even sixties, but he hits with the force of a damn ox.

Teeth are sharp against my tongue, blood flows from them cutting into my cheek and tongue from the hit. I believe my lips are split too, but I can't tell since everything hurts.

"Stick her, she's not out. We'll toss her into the tub, wash her up real nice."

I hear James speak, but my body is in so much pain I can't move, even to wince as the needle sinks into my neck. Long hair had fallen into my face as I fell, it's obscured my vision, but I can see the dirty shoes in front of my face. Can smell them too as I breathe heavily.

I don't know what they plunged into me, but I can feel it flowing into my veins. It's cold. I pray it won't knock me out as I fight against it. The churning in my stomach loosens but doesn't go away, the muscle spasms coming less frequent.

They lift me, however I can't move, my body feels frozen. A paralytic drug then. With James at my head and Fred at my feet, I'm carried from the bedroom into a sorry excuse for a bathroom. A light is flicked on, I can see a yellowed toilet and an ancient-looking porcelain tub with an overhanging shower head. Brown stains cover the inside of it.

They lower my feet to the floor next to it, James standing against my back and holding me up as Fred turns on the water. It runs brown, then yellow, then to clear.

I'm really going to have to get checked for bugs when I get outta here. Probably tetanus to.

When the water starts to steam, falling from the upper faucet, he looks back at me. His eyes still shiny as if he's on drugs himself. Somehow, I don't doubt it as I see them dilating. He takes the half step it takes to be right in front of me, ugly shit colored eyes travel in a leer from my head to my feet.

Asshole.

I glare as hard as I can while his hands move out of my sight to the hem of my shirt. I try backing away but don't move. I can't even speak. Rage boils my blood.

I picture it melting the drug from my system, bleeding it through my pores. My messed up arm jerks as he pulls and peels my torn-up shirt up and over my head. It hurts like a sonofabitch. I can't even gasp my pain, but my breath does hitch. His eyes widen as he takes in my torn up upper body.

"Damn girl, what happened to you? You're just covered in bruises and dried blood."

A frown crosses his face as he looks over my burning shoulder.

Bruises? There should be open wounds, scrapes, gashes. My collarbone was broken and had been protruding if I remember right. How long was I out? Has it really been 3 days? My wounds would still be open, festering. I so badly want to look.

Fred drops my shirt to the floor then moves to my pants. His hands so ham-like he has trouble with the button. My muscles jump in an effort to move. After he gets it and the zipper undone, he bends down to where I can only see the top of his head.

My skin crawls as I wonder what he's doing till I feel my boots being unzipped. The nightmare at my back is pressing himself against me, his body really happy to be there. Burning bile rises as I gag, his stiffness pressing into my back.

I end up getting leaned forward as he wraps an arm over my chest and fumbles at my bra with the other. Ripping it off before long. My rage grows icy. I had told myself long ago that I would not let myself be so helpless again.

The cramps in all my muscles began to grow again. Does that mean the drug is wearing off? I hope so. I try to move my fingers. They ache, but I feel one move. A shot of hope goes through me. They don't seem to notice as they keep up what they're doing.

Fred pulls off one boot just as James slips my bra off. His skin against me makes mine crawl. I can feel the small hairs along my body rise and begin to itch horribly. The other boot comes off. I try moving my fingers again, a few move this time, the knuckles popping aloud as if breaking.

"Fuck! She's beginning to move, we have to hurry. You didn't give her enough."

Fred sounds annoyed, his eyes hardening. James wraps both arms around me, my legs jerk and my knee's pop.

"Any more and she'll go into a coma. She should have been out for a few more hours when we got here."

James' voice almost sounds worried. Fred rips off my pants and underwear, wet and smelly clothes not a deterrent for this creep. Jerking my body forward and picking up my legs, they maneuver around the tub and practically drop me in it. Hot water pours over me instantly.

I land on my left side, essentially rolling out of their arms as they drop me in. Poor left side of my body has been so abused I don't think it'll ever heal. The drug has pretty much worn off, but my legs hurt so bad that I can't even move to stand.

The muscles of my thighs feel like they're moving, elongating. My feet itch horribly as they harden and stretch. My arms pop and grow, shoulder screaming at me as I hear it snap and reform. Something is seriously wrong; is it from the drug? Just what the fuck did they give me?

My insides feel like they're on fire. I writhe as the water that hits my skin actually hurts. I can feel my face move and my teeth grow, sharpen, cutting into my lips. Eardrums ring, even my eyes burn.

What the hell is happening?

My body is in agony as I thrash in the hot water. Someone is screaming, and it's getting high pitched and annoying. I don't realize it's me at first, but once I do, I think I get louder, deeper.

I look up at my tormentors who just stand at the side of the tub looking at me in disbelief and confusion. My arms and legs stretch and lengthen, the bones pop and crunch in extremely painful snaps. Spine shifts and pushes through my back as my knees break and reform. Black claws spring from my fingertips and toes as the bones elongate and grow thicker.

Screams turn to growls and snarls as my vocal cords change. My skull moves and transforms, nose cracking and growing. Fur rips through burning skin in a wash of scalding blood as it starts at my head and moves down, my natural hair disappearing.

Palms and the bottoms of my feet feel hard. My skeleton feels too large for my skin to hold, the wrong shape. My body grows and burns while I lay there in scalding water just trying to breathe.

Pants escape as my breath returns to me, the screaming having stopped. The only sound now is the running of the water. I don't hurt anymore, rather I feel like I just had a several hours long, hard, total body workout. The tub feels small as I slowly turn and push myself up to stand. My balance a little wobbly before my center of gravity kicks in.

Fred and James take a step back, catching my attention with horrified expressions on their pale faces. I raise my lips in a mocking grin and look down at myself. I have become that which I have written about, that I draw.

A monster.

A Werewolf; a Loup-garou, and I feel strong.