When the Lights Are Out

The bus slows, but my eyes remain locked on the black brick resting in my hands; her voice echoes in the hollow between my ears. Our conversation is cut short by my phone’s battery. Rain pelts against the window, a crescendo of irate voices. Her angry words ring above the others and turn my limbs to ice. The bus stops and the driver stares in his mirror at me, his brows furrowed. I slide from the old leather seat and plaster a smile on my face to hide the frozen panic. With stiff limbs, I nod and step into the stormy night. Rain distorts the light from within, causing stars to twinkle in the windows of every house down the cul-de-sac, except for ours.

Our house sits in the middle of the row, one dark bulb on a string of lights. Did she leave before I could apologize and we could make up? Each step feels like walking through concrete, heavy, clumsy. Rain soaks through my t-shirt and coats my skin. My chocolate hair plasters to my neck and shoulders. I didn’t want her to find out like this, while I was gone with my students for their show, but I hadn’t expected Devan’s mother to show up.

I stutter, feet numb at the steps leading into the gnawing darkness of our home. My stomach twists at the phantom whispering her words. She is the only family I’ve ever had. I can’t lose her because of a stupid mistake. Water pools across my vision and mirrors the rain as it falls down my cheeks. I knew it was wrong of me to contact her family behind her back, but I couldn’t let our relationship be the reason she lost them. Even now my chest warms at the thought of being part of her family. Then I remember how Devan’s face pinched, her cheeks taking on the color of a fresh scar, because of the hateful words her mother spewed at us when she found out her daughter was dating a woman. I didn’t think she would walk away from her family, for me, but she did.

My hand shakes; the key almost slips free to crash on the wooden deck. I pause. Eyes pinching shut and suck in a lungful of damp air. With a twist of the wrist, our door swings open. One step over the threshold is like walking through a wall of ice. I can’t help but search the black for any signs of her. I feel along the wall, beside the door, till I find the light switch and flip it.

It doesn’t turn on.

“Devan?” I call, my voice echoing down the hall.

I drop my duffle bag and it thumps on the floor. I cringe at the loud noise, my heart pounding and vision blurring. My steps muffle on the carpet. Water drips, marking my path from the door. When I am about halfway down the hall, my boots squelch on a wet spot. With creasing brows, I study the dark splotch. Did Devan spill something while leaving? A sweet scent teases my nose and the taste of pennies blooms on my tongue, choking me. I press my palm against the cool wall to steady myself and feel my way to the door of her office, but before I make it, I trip over a mass on the floor. My hands slap against the wall, clawing at it, to no avail. I land on the wet carpet. The mysterious liquid soaks into my black jeans.

I stare at the dark liquid coating my palms and the scent grows worse till it coats my tongue. The object rests beneath my knees, firm with an elastic give. After untangling my legs from the thing on the ground, I move back and stop once I am outside of the puddle surrounding it. Something cold scrapes my palm and cuts into the fleshy side. With a gasp, I hug my hand to my chest and smear whatever is covering the carpet into the black, wet t-shirt that clings to my curves. At least whatever it is can’t stain my clothes.

I float my hand over the carpet, searching for the object that cut me and find it nestled, tip point up. With a flick of the wrist, I pry it from the woven nest of fiber. It gleams in the dark, catching the briefest flash of light as a car drives past our house. I know this object; it is Devan’s letter opener with her family’s crest embedded in the handle. Brows creasing, I stumble to my feet. She would never leave it behind if she didn’t plan on coming back. I cradle the metal handle with my palm, unwilling to let it go. My heart swells for a second; maybe she will let me explain or at the least apologize. Absently, I feel around the wall, looking for the door jamb. This time I find it, careful not to trip over the object in the middle of the hall while I step through the doorway of her office.

I paw at the wall inside and find the light switch, flicking it on. This time light sears into my pupils; they pinch shut from the sting, and I have to brace myself against the wall. Light splotches sear me from behind my closed lids. After a few seconds, I peek through my lashes and find that the light no longer burns.

A red spot on the wall inches away from my face stands out against the white paint. My heart drops; a shiver runs down my back. With a robotic movement, I gape at the wall. Drops of it are splattered across the surface. They stretch down the hallway, getting less concentrated the further they go. I try to swallow, but can’t. A lump forms at the top of my throat, blocking my breath. My hands shake. Red coats my tan flesh. It stains my skin.

I clench my jaw and flex the muscles in my neck, trying to stop myself from looking at her form on the carpet, but fail. Her glassy eyes stare at me in judgment. Fat drops of tears mix into her blood. I want to scream, but can’t. I want to tear out my hair, but my body won’t listen. Instead, I sink to my knees right beside her motionless body. My stomach twists, realizing that she was the object that I tripped over. The normally striking blue of Devan’s eyes is glazed with a white sheen. My chest rips apart, heart plummeting from the opening. Her throat is ripped open, as if a wild animal got in the house and attacked her. Her arm stretches towards the entrance door, clawing for survival when it is already too late.

A tapping starts on the linoleum floor by the entrance. It echoes down the hall. The hairs on my arm rise, pebbling the skin. A silhouette of a wolf guards the door, but bigger than any I’ve ever seen at the zoo. A halo of white surrounds it, its fur grey saturated with red, with Devan’s blood. The hair ruffles with each panting breath. It tilts its massive head, like it is confused by a creature stupid enough to walk into its trap. A wicked intelligence glints in its grey eyes. It creeps closer. I grip Devan’s silver letter opener, my last piece of her and back away from the wolf. It mirrors my movements, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

My escape is halted when the wood of our bedroom door presses against my back. Tears continue to stream from my eyes as the beast closes in; my heart races with each step closer. Before it can reach me, it doubles over. A howl rips from its throat, followed by pops of dislocating joints; the fur on its back disappears and in its place is a contorted human back. A cracking of bones roars through the house. Its back bows, snapping 90 degrees backwards and its fur recedes, leaving behind a bared human form that pants from the violent transformation.

He tilts his head towards me, fangs piercing into the flesh below his bottom lip and growls. A mimicry of words, distorted by his newly formed throat. My mouth falls open, my tears frozen in their path from the impossibility of the man-creature before me. He growls again, the words unintelligible, like his tongue is too large for his mouth. He climbs to his feet, just as oversized in human form.

My hands tear at my wet hair and I pinch my eyelids shut. This has to be a dream, please let this be a dream. I rock against the wooden door, but no matter how much I beg, I don’t wake up. His feet drag over the carpet, forcing my eyes open. His chest heaves, the whites of his eyes bared and wild. The weight of Devan’s letter opener, a small comfort; I grip the metal like a lifeline and rise to my feet, the door stronger than my backbone.

“Run,” he says, his head shaking and long dark hair falling over his eyes.

I stare, eyes bugging out from my head, utterly motionless in his glare. He takes a step towards me and I flinch into the wood.

“I said run.” The malice in his words causes my knuckles to turn white around the small piece of silver.

He lunges towards me.

I point the blade at his chest.