Werewolf Compilations novel Chapter 76

I must look like something straight out of a nightmare, because when I attempt to open the door, I realize it is locked, and suddenly Gail peeks through the drawn curtains and shrieks. The curtains slip closed and I knock again. "Gail! It's me! Rae?" I call to her, "I'm fine, just let me in."

She comes through the sliver in the curtains again, shouting through the glass of the window. "Rae? Dear Goddess! What on earth happened—"

"Will you please open the door?" I interrupt and wait the few seconds until the lock clicks and Gail swings the door open, her eyes wider than I've ever seen them—and I've held a knife to my neck. "I should explain," I say, attempting to get inside, but she blocks me.

"Is that your blood?"

"No," I say, wanting to get inside, but she blocks me again.

"You'll track blood in the house," she says wearily before lighting up with more questions. "Were you out there at that rogue incident? Is that why you're covered in blood? I'll call the doctor. Alpha Grant is by the border post, but I'll send someone to get him. Come in. Come in. Where are you hurt? It looks like everywhere."

I follow her into the living room where the phone is. "I'm not, well I was under a dead wolf, but I'm not actually hurt. It's just rogue blood."

She stops and looks back at me. "You were what?"

"I'll explain if you'll let me."

She nods. "Just let me get the Alpha."

I grab the phone before she can. "No. Don't. I said I'm not hurt."

"You're soaked in another man's blood. You look like Carrie. You said something about being stuck. Now give me the phone."

"Gail, please. Let me explain first?"

She groans. "Alright."

I sit down at the small table in the kitchen while Gail grabs a dish towel and runs it under the sink, ringing it out, then sitting down beside me. She brings the cloth to my face and rubs at the blood smeared on me. "Goddess, Rae. It's dried on you."

I head up the stairs before he can respond, and the entire way to my bedroom I'm thinking, why did he ask me that? He doesn't say things like that. He's never asked me how I am. I said too much. I can't tell him how I feel, he'd use it against me.

I lock the door and take off my clothes, placing them in the sink for now so the floor doesn't get bloody. Light from the small window above the toilet trickles in and I step into the shower, letting the water wash the red from my skin. The white floor of the shower is coated in a dull mix of warm colors and I watch it drain until the water runs clear. Gail has given me toiletries and they sit on the floor, so I reach down and squeeze out too much shampoo onto my palm then scrub the dried blood from my scalp.

The heat from the water fogs the glass walls of the shower and I slid down the tiles until I hit the ground. The shower beats down on my legs as I curl up. Shampoo foam drips down my face and down my shoulders and I can't help my cry softly to myself.

I can still taste the blood on my lips.

Time is nonexistent as I sit in the shower. The shampoo has mostly washed from my hair, little patches of foam trapped underneath. I pick under my nails, scratching out dirt and blood until they look clean, my fingertips wrinkled. Knowing that I'll have to get out sometime, I squeeze out some conditioner and lather my hair, eventually standing up to rinse it out. The bathroom is clouded with steam, making it hard to breathe, so I open the bathroom door and air it out. I can't help but see things on my bed.

I grab a towel and head out, finding my books and my iPod set neatly on the edge of the bed, waiting for me. I take the small device in my wrinkled hand and squeeze it to make sure it is really there.

The phone is set on the desk, hooked back up. I take it and call my mother.