Death’s New Pet: Love after Life

Six months ago.

You need to escape, Scarlet. Escape before the beast gets his claws on you again!

Drenched in dried blood and a thick layer of sweat, my shivering body freezes as I strain to listen for any movement around me. It’s a futile task; the pounding of my erratic heartbeat makes it near impossible to listen out for any potential footsteps belonging to the predators I’m running from.

Unwittingly, I resort back to sight and stick my head out from behind the tree trunk, fully expecting a bullet with my name on it to burst through the bushes. I wait for it to send my body soaring backwards to join the rest of the souls murdered on this plot of land. Thankfully, nothing attacks me… yet.

Turning white, my knuckles strain as I grip the rough tree bark which crumbles in my fingers. Dust and mud stain under my nails and a sharp object cuts me until I feel the blood seep from the skin. The sensation is so much stickier than what I’ve read about in the library books but now isn’t the time for marvelling at my new discovery, I must keep pushing.

Whilst desperately trying to catch my breath, I scan the surroundings like my life depends on it— because it fucking does. Lifeless trees and wilted flowers thrash around in the howling storm that’s ripping apart this small town.

Decaying leaves join the dancefloor of misery and the brown stems of grass leap side to side as if dancing to the haunting song of the wind’s agonising howls. Everything is either dead or dying. Nothing can flourish in a place where he reigns.

Fuck. The storm wasn’t supposed to hit us so soon and now I’m caught up in it.

Protectively, I wrap my arms around my shivering body, but it is a useless, thin and skimpy nightdress; it stands very little chance against the storm’s attack. My eyes feel painted, as though they’ve been iced over. I can’t remember the last time I blinked. If only the snot dribbling below my nose could be used as a lubricant to wet my achy eyes I might get out of here alive. I can’t even cry to bring my tense body some relief.

But is it because of the arctic weather, or because my husband beat it out of me?

My only saving grace is that my wicked, tormented husband has not realised that I’m gone. This, I know for sure. If he had, there would be hounds at my heels, flashlights burning into the back of my head, and bullets piercing through my skin. He’s probably drunkenly slumped in his office chair, whisky in his rough left hand and a cigar decaying between his lips. He’s probably grinning as he conjures up evil thoughts in that disgusting mind of his. Or perhaps he’s already stumbling up the stairs, heavily intoxicated, but focused on getting his dirty fucking hands on my should-be-unconscious body.

Not today, Maximo. Not today and not ever again.

A sick part of me wishes I could see the look on his face when it sinks in. His most valuable property vanished from the fortified prison walls. I long to watch his horror when he realises that twenty-two years of beating, threatening, and torture will not defy nature. I was built to survive. To fight. To win.

And all it took was one quick slip of the wrist to pop the drug meant for my drink in his unsuspecting guard’s tea, for his entire fantasy to come crashing down. My fantasy is short-lived as another awful gale of wind has me losing my balance, and I stumble forward, the wind behind me like a shove in the right direction.

I push further through the treeline until a slight glisten of the metal gates, two hundred metres from me, shines through like a beacon in the light.

Yes, there it is!

It’s exactly how it’s been described to me — well, not to me. More like just in my presence when they thought that I was unconscious, bitching about how long the walk was from the parking to the house gates. It doesn’t take a genius to look out of the window and guess the rough location of the road in comparison to the house, even if I have never been allowed to step foot in this forest.

I misjudge how far the gate is through the blur of torrential rain which now pours down on me, and suddenly, I feel ten times heavier as though there are weights tied to my ankles. Not only that but my stomach shrieks in hunger and the ache in my bones begs me to stop pushing so hard. Running off zero sleep and no food for the last two days is really taking a toll on my strength. Fatigue cackles as it works against me, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop.

Better fatigue kills me than my husband.

Finally, my body falls limply against the gate as my breathless pants tear through my body. The sharp talons on a particular design pattern on the gate snags my skin. The sharp pain wakes my foggy mind. An involuntary sob tears past my lips as the blood stains my skin. The agony forces a new stream of adrenaline through me, and it gives me the energy to snatch at the gate lock. Desperately, I try every four-digit code I can think of.

My husband’s birthday. My birthday. Our wedding date.

Nothing works and my numb fingers freeze in their clenched position.

Fuck sake, Scarlet, why didn’t you plan for a fucking code?

Desperately, my head snaps backwards as I stare up at the two-metre-long fence with spikes and barbed wire circling the top.

There is no fucking way I can climb this.

And the storm frustratingly decimates everything except the gate.

I’m next. The plaguing self-doubt harasses me. Fuck, I should have waited a week!

Reason fights back. No! I wouldn’t have survived another week…

Horrified by the reality of the situation, I grab at the metal bars to see if I can get any friction. Dying through impalement or electrocution would still be kinder than what that monster would do if he found me out here. But my grip is futile as the rain makes it impossible to grab.

A horrifying howl throws fear through me like no other. I know those snarls. The bastard has set the wolves on me, and those beasts take no pity on anyone! They’ve torn more people apart than I’ve had meals.

Using every inch of energy left, I force myself alongside the fence, desperately searching for a weakness in the defence. The rain slashes at my body like iced knives in the winter and only now do the tears pour down my face. More howling swarms but I’m unsure whether it’s from the wind, or the bloodthirsty monsters hunting me down.

The world is swallowed by despair as my bare feet sink into the disgustingly thick mud. It causes a mighty squelch and offers the sick torment of my position away. Not only is it the most uncomfortable sensation between my naked toes, but it fucking stinks. I feel as though the fumes intoxicate me and muddy my thoughts. My knee threatens to give way as I leap across a particularly wet sloshy patch of God-knows-what.

In the distance, I finally hear human voices. The wind disguises their words, but it’s at this moment I know I’m fucking done for. They shriek at the dogs to find me. To tear me apart. To make me regret ever leaving the home.

Bang!

Suddenly, I fly through the air as my foot catches on a loose tree root hidden in the slosh. I slam against the ground ungracefully. Instant agony shoots through me and I muffle my scream into my arm. My ankle throbs and the swelling is almost instant.

Fuck!

I refuse to look at it, knowing that it’s not going to be pretty and will only slow me down. Instead, I use my arms to desperately scoop at the wet ground. I resort to my last choice. Digging my way out of this Hell hole!

The process gets quicker and more frantic, and frustratingly clumsier, as the growls roar closer. As though mourning my pending death, the wind shrieks agonisingly, and the puddles of water threaten to drown my face. I struggle to stay above the slosh.

The hole under the fence is tight but I don’t have any other choice. I frantically wriggle around in the mud to slip under the fence. However, as I do so, a metal spike slashes me down the spine, catching at my lower back. Trying to kick myself forward, I come to an immediate impasse. Between the weapon pressed against my back and my swollen ankle refusing to cooperate with my escape, I am unable to do much except propel my arms desperately around. The mud gives away far too easily, and I can’t get a grip. My fingertips are so fucking close to the tarmacked road and yet so far away.

If I could just grab—

In the distance, the light from a car beam almost blinds me. With a shriek of despair, I try to wave down the car. It feels futile because it’s pitch black out and they are hurtling down with no intention of stopping. They’ll be past me in a blink of an eye.

Again, I kick on my painful ankle, and it slightly pushes me forward until the fence catches on my ass. I slide my hands under my body and desperately dig to give myself more room, but the rainwater fills up the gap, making it tough to move the muddied clay-like substance. For a moment, I consider throwing my face into the puddle in front of me and praying that drowning kills me before the dogs do. However, looking back was a mistake and I can now see the pack of dogs with their beady evil eyes locked on me.

Terrified, I squeal like a squeaky toy. The only word I can fathom is “Fuck!” and it leaves my lips as I scramble as hard as I can.

Suddenly, I feel the weight of one of the beasts on my thigh and it’s crushing.

I’m done for!

I cry out in despair and wait for the all-too-familiar pain to assault me. However, just as the enormous beast lands, the sound of shrieking car-breaks rings out, completely overriding the storm. His gnarly fangs barely scrape my skin, but I’m wild now, kicking at the beast with all my might. The beast snarls and pounces again as if finally ready to devour me.

I spoke too soon.

Those devilish jaws widen as if to clamp on my thigh. At the same time, a high-pitched whistle tears through the woods.

To my absolute surprise, no pain scorches my leg, and suddenly, the weight of the beast disappears. Casting a frightened look over my shoulder, I can just about make out the wolf suddenly backing away. His large tail shoots between his legs, his head low and submissive. The rest of the pack copy him, whimpering as though they are in agony.

What the actual fuck?

And then I feel it, the absolute fucking misery. Tears spring to my eyes and my heart drops in my chest. It feels as though the world around me is ending. A ridiculous string of sobs and cries leave my lips and suddenly, I’m scrambling at the mud with a newfound sense of desperation. The mud finally breaks free so I can pull the rest of my body under the gate.

Breathlessly, I stumble to my feet, but the pain is agonising on my ankle, and I quickly tumble back down. Before I can connect with the floor, a hand shoots out and grabs me. I’m quickly greeted with expensive musky perfume that snakes up my nose and makes my head feel dizzy. The feeling of misery quickly disappears as though someone has flipped a switch, and a sudden humiliation flows through me. I wipe my eyes with the back of my arm but all I do is smear mud across my face and dirty my eyesight.

The stranger secures their grip around me and before I know it, I’m falling into the front seat of a carelessly parked car. All the while, my hero says nothing.

“Thank you! Thank you! Oh, thank God, thank you so much!” The relief hits me in an instant as soon as the door slams in my face. My heart races one hundred miles an hour and everything aches as though I’ve been hit by a train. I hear the stranger slide into the car beside me and I frantically try to grab a look at my saviour, but I’m stunned by what I see.

In the frantic haze of escaping, I never stopped to realise my hero was a ridiculously tall, fiery-haired woman with stoically calm composure. Her gloved hands rest at ten-and-two on the wheel, and she pulls away with ease as though we are pulling out of a road and not speeding from the scene of multiple crimes. A large raven-coloured hat shields her face, blocking her appearance from me.

The black lacy dress hides the pedals of the car and snakes around her slim body. And her sleeves are tight around her arms, draping majestically when they get to her gloved fingers.

Do all normal women dress like they’ve come from a Halloween party in the real world?

Her head turns to me slowly. Instantly, it’s as though all the air in the car is sucked out. She exposes her ridiculously pale complexion, thin pointed nose, and blood-red lips. Large sunglasses hide most of her face but it’s the way she smiles at me which makes my stomach flip

No. Not a smile, a grimace.

What kind of person wears sunglasses at three in the morning? Who the fuck is this woman? Come to think of it, what the hell is she doing driving around at—

Her head snaps away from me just as quickly as the horror sinks in and the questions run riot. Her frantic movements have me startled in my seat until the whites of my knuckles pop from gripping the seatbelt so viciously.

“You can drop me off here.” Even my voice is shaky with fear. She simply ignores me as though I never said a word. “Really, I appreciate what you’ve done for me, but—”

“You need a hospital,” she speaks in a deep, husky tone. There isn’t an ounce of concern or shock in her voice; it’s almost as though she expected me to be gravely wounded. And what’s more nerve-wracking, she asks no questions. It’s almost like this is another day in the office for her.

“There isn’t a hospital for another twenty miles. Rest, girl.” She tips her head back to check her lipstick in the mirror. When she bares her teeth, for a split second, I swear her teeth come to a point, just like Dracula has in the comics. My breath hitches. However, just as quickly as I see them, she snaps her attention back to the road.

It’s just delirium. Reason tries to comfort me, but my instincts are on high alert, recognising her as a threat. I will my body to move. It refuses the instruction, pain being its sovereign master.

“Nobody is going to hurt you today, so you might as well relax.” Her fingers curl tighter around the wheel, and she barely casts me another glance.

Today.

The word lingers around the car like a bad smell, and I can’t stop it repeating in my head. Yet, despite everything within me begging me to stay alert, exhaustion from the day swarms through me until my eyes are too heavy to keep open. I’ve always found comfort in the unconsciousness. And as much as I long for today to be different, routine is a bitch.