Kierra

A small dining table sits in the middle of the room. Two chairs surround it, fast food bags and beer bottles litter the top. A few smaller bags have a white powder in them.

Moving to stand next to the basement doorway, I lean heavily against the wall. Putting my hands awkwardly over my face, I weep. I lean there for several minutes, before pulling my face away from my hands to look at them.

They're three times the size of my normal hands. Thick black pads cover my palms and fingers. I even have a damn dew claw with its own pad.

The claws that tip my fingers are long, curved, thick, and black. Turning my hands reveals thick fur covering them. Hard to distinguish just what my coloring is, being covered in blood and a bit of gore.

"It had to happen this way. I'm sorry."

I jerk upright so fast that I take an involuntary step forward, finding the possessor of the voice standing just outside the screen-less door that leads into the garage. It was closed before, wasn't it? I must be really messed up if I didn't hear it opening.

What greets my eyes is not comforting. A black wolf stands there looking at me, his tail down in a non-aggressive stance. The moon pendant around his neck gleams as his head is as erect as his ears.

"Who are you? What do you mean it had to happen?"

It feels a little weird to talk to him, but seeing as how I'm talking to him as a Werewolf... It can't get much weirder than this. Pushing through the screen door, he walks closer to me a little warily. I watch him, not sure just what he's planning.

"My name is Asher. Don't be afraid, I'm not here to harm you. It took a while before I could get an opening to come to you."

Due to no eyebrows to raise at him, my head tilts instead. He isn't actually speaking out loud, his muzzle didn't move. Which reminds me that mine is. My voice is deeper, but I can talk, even with a differently shaped jaw structure.

"How are you talking to me without your mouth moving?"

I look around. Ventriloquists are known to throw their voices right? I sniff the air, but all I smell is the mess downstairs, dirty kitchen, and a musky, woodsy scent that's coming from the wolf. No one else is here.

Looking back to him, my ears start quirking in all directions, catching every sound made. That damn mouse is at it again.

"Your mind..."

He cocks his head at me, his eyes pretty expressive as I read the amusement in them. I can feel it.

"A good thing too since I can't talk in this form. Not human speech anyway. I can talk to just about all wildlife though."

"Wonderful, you're a certifiable Lassie, but that doesn't tell me why you think this had to happen."

I want to sit, the adrenaline high depleting, but the table doesn't look sturdy enough to hold a good plate of food, let alone however much I weigh now. The chairs are out as well. Sighing, I crouch down and try my luck at getting comfy.

Looking back to Asher, I motion for him to sit as well. If I'm going to be in a vulnerable position, so is he. Very charitable of me. He sits.

"Even cursed to this form, I have certain abilities. I saw in a dream what would become of you and your sister if I didn't intervene. If I hadn't bitten you and helped your transition along, you would have died in the attack that made you what you are now."

I know I'm frowning, just not sure it's showing. My new face is gonna have some getting used to.

"Alright, that makes sense...in a vague way, I guess. But what am I supposed to do now? I don't even know how to change back, or even if I can. Wait, cursed? What do you mean? Aren't you like me?"

"It's a long story, but I'm sort of like you. As for shifting back, you have to picture it in your mind and will your human form back."

I look at him with a little doubt, but close my eyes and try anyway. I picture myself. My long hair, my rather short stature. I feel a prickling in my skin, but nothing else happens.

I open my eyes, nothing's happened. I'm still seven-foot of furriness. Looking to Asher, he looks confused for a minute, then he stands.

"How long has it been since you shifted?"

"I don't know, maybe half an hour."

He nods his head, ocean colored eyes roaming. I may be covered in fur, but it's still a bit off-putting. Feeling the long appendage lash around behind me is the weirdest sensation.

"That explains why it didn't work then. Your body will stay in that form for another eight or so hours unless something happens and you shift early. It's painful to shift like that though, so I don't recommend it."

I nod and stand upright. I need to find my things and Asher echoes my thoughts, to a point.

"We need to burn everything. No evidence of you can be found here. I will look around for something we can use to get it going."

He trots back out the door that was left open when he came in. I stand there for a moment, then get moving to find my stuff. Walking further into the house, I don't really see it, and it isn't real big.

From the kitchen leads into the living room. No second floor, and only a few doors, not including the front door. A couch, a couple of lounge chairs, small coffee table, and a stand with a TV dominates the room. That's not counting the garbage littering the floor.

Several more small bags with powder in them are scattered on the table, lighters, small pieces of mirrored glass and pipes scattered throughout. One open door leads to a bathroom, nothing in there except what you would usually find in a males bathroom. A very poor man's bathroom, rather.

I go to the next door and find a small bedroom that is full of tables, a few chairs, opened and unopened boxes. Looks like they kept most of their stuff in here, or had yet to unpack everything. Leaving the door open, I go and check the last door.

This one looks to be the master bedroom, furnished with a large rumpled bed, closet, and dresser. A tripod hooked up with recorder is tucked into one corner. More cuffs and chains hang from this bed like the one below and there looks to be a pile of items on it, so I walk in.

Sure enough, my wallet, phone, and keys are there, along with hundreds of photographs. One catches my eye; it's Faline.

I frown as I pick it and several others up. She's sitting on the railing at our house, laughing and facing Tigger who's on the railing a couple of feet down from her. I remember that; he'd been sleeping on it and had almost fallen off. We had called him 'monorail cat' because he's so fat.

Another picture is of me writing, sitting against a tree. My hair shining in the light as a multicolored red. The camera he used must have had a zoom lens, for it looks as if he had been standing right in front of me. I hadn't seen him; him or Fred. I guess he was telling the truth when he'd said he'd been watching us.

There's many more, but I don't look. I crumple the ones in my hand. Everything has to be destroyed. Stepping lightly over to the camcorder, don't even bother to look at what's recorded on it as I carefully pull out the memory chip.

Breaking the offending electronics into pieces and throwing them against the wall while holding on tightly to the small sim card, my claws dig into my own hand. I look around for something to put my things in. Nothing suitable in the room, so I go back to the kitchen.

Cupboards and drawers are gone through before finding a small cloth bag in the closet right next to the basement door. I grab it quickly as my eyes register what all is in here. Several lengths and thicknesses of cords, rope, and bungee cords hang from the inner walls.

Half a dozen unmarked jugs filled with liquid are pushed together under the shelving, eyes roam up further to see rolls of duct tape and zip-ties piled next to a few boxes of gloves. My eyes close, ears going back tightly along my skull. A small sound escapes me before I turn away, then back to grab a length of cord, trying to ignore the rolls of plastic stacked on a higher shelf.

Hastily walking back to the room, I put my things into the small bag, dropping in the small chip and zip it shut. It has a couple thin straps that I weave the black cord through, and then tie around my waist. I'm just finishing the knot to keep it in place when Asher walks in.

The bag hangs low and to the side so I'm not constantly kneeing it when I move. Fashion at its best.

"I didn't find any gasoline believe it or not, but I did find a couple of coolers that are full of liquor. Did you find anything?"

He asks it expectantly, so I know he knows something. My words are low, deep, and sounding growled.

"Mm, indeed. Pictures of my sister and I. He's been watching us for a while, but you already knew that, didn't you?"

"Yes. He came often, even tried camping out at what's left of my home. I made him change his mind. It's also how I knew to find you. Between following him, a few dreams, and realizing that I've seen you before when you walk around in the woods near your home."

I nod as he leaves the room, heading towards the kitchen. I begin to follow, but turn and attack the bed. Shredding the bedding and causing pictures to go flying. The wooden frame snaps from me throwing it against the wall.

I rip the mattress to ribbons but I'm not satisfied yet. I go after the dresser. Picking it up as if it weighs nothing and throwing it against the ruined bed frame.

Drawers fly open and empty their contents onto the floor. Some are clothes, which turn out to be costumes. The bottom drawer has more pictures. Many, many more.

I briefly look before taking a double-take. Many are of young girls, preteens, and small boys. I pick one up of a small girl about six or seven.

She has long black hair held back with a red ribbon, big brown eyes wide, scared, and staring right at the camera. The background looking a lot like the room I had woken in. She looks so frightened. The picture holds mostly her face, but I can see that her shoulders were bare.

I snarl. I have to keep reminding myself that they're dead. That I killed them, sent them to any hell dimension that they may have believed in. Something bumps against my legs, I look down to find Asher had come back.

"You killed them, they can do no more harm to anyone. The only ones here are you and I. We can only hope those children are back home and safe."

I nod and hold back tears, knowing many will probably never be heard from again. He's right, no one else is here... Wait.

"Are you sure? What if one of the children is still here?"

The scratching I heard, was it just a mouse?

I drop the photo and run back to the kitchen, stopping at the table as I almost knock into it. Freezing and straining my ears to listen, swiveling them left and right. There, the scratching is still there. Faint though.

I'd gone through the kitchen already, so the noise isn't coming from here. Rushing down the stairs, practically leaping down them, I look around for anything I might have missed. The door to the one room is still open, same with the bathroom.

The pools of blood look black against the cement floor. I shake my head and listen, Asher right behind me. The still running water in the bathroom is annoying. Ignoring it, I try for scent.

Blood, urine, shit, and perforated intestines dominate the air. I walk away from the room and bathroom to the opposite wall. There's a small area closed off with pipes and drywall.

I hear the scratching again, but it sounds different now that I'm closer to it. As I clear the pipes, I find that they and the drywall form a semi-closed off room that holds several large dog kennels. Even with as little light as there is, with new eyes, I'm able to see a huddled figure in the corner of one of them.

Asher walks ahead of me to sniff and scratch at the bars. He whines a little, trying to catch the attention of whoever is inside. The scratching stops as a child moves to the front of the small prison. A small boy peeks out at Asher, his hair brown with dirt and grime.

Old and new tear tracks have left lines down his face where he'd been crying, dull blue eyes go from Asher to me. Instead of screaming like I thought he'd do, his eyes just widen as he stares. He's only wearing a long t-shirt and it's torn and dirty.

I slowly take a step towards him and he winces, but stays at the bars, clutching the mesh so tight his knuckles are white. His tiny wrists are scarred, rubbed red and raw, his ankles most likely share the same marks. Asher whines again to get his attention, it works, but the boy's eyes darken, becoming defiant.

"Are you gonna hurt me too?"