she pulled herself from bed and dressed quickly. She ran her fingers through hair that no longer looked stylishly brave, but messy and without a hint of fashion sense. She made for the exit with her shoes untied, her skirt on sideways, and her travel bag hanging wide open. A car-ride later she shuffled through the front door of her home, sun setting in the west, moon rising in the east, clutching her belly with her fingers.
The child was kicking; the pain was getting worse. If it didn’t soon subside she was going to find herself buckled over on the floor, screaming bloody murder. Again.
As she staggered down the hallway towards (her late husband) Richard, the bedroom door blasted open and Kate stepped into view. Her eyes were entirely different now. They looked swollen and red, like she had been screwing her fists into her sockets for the last five years.
She grabbed Jennifer by the shoulders and said, “You need to brace yourself.”
“Let me see him.”
“No! Listen to me Jenn; you need to prepare for what you’re about to see. Richard is back, but he looks bad. He looks really fucking bad.”
Jennifer cringed. She hadn’t heard her sister use the F word since she was fourteen years old. She said, “I’ll be alright.”
“Brace yourself! I’m not kidding about this.”
Jennifer pushed Kate away forcefully and plowed into the room. She figured she’d be able to handle it. No problem. She was a grown woman, for crying out loud. Besides, how bad could it be?
Richard was on the bed. His body was angled unnaturally and his suit was covered in dirt. Chunks of brain were resting on the pillow. A large bug ran across the sheets as another scurried up the wall. To summarize, he looked like an embalmed corpse that had been smashed to pieces with a sledgehammer and pulled from the earth he’d been buried in. And Jennifer, truth be told, didn’t brace herself for what she was about to see; she didn’t brace for anything.
“Oh my God!” she shrieked, with eyes growing wide. “Richard, is that you?”
Looking like a zombie, he said, “Listen to me, baby-doll. This is critical.”
The thing living inside Jennifer kicked.
She staggered, clutching her belly.
At the same moment, Richard felt his spine expand. He said, “You need to kill the baby inside you. You need to do it right now. Get a clothes hanger; push it in. Abort the child.”
Kate stepped into the room, quite literally trembling and pulling at her hair. She said, “What are you talking about… abort the child? Now?! What the hell is happening here?!”
Richard’s knees popped and his shoulders buckled. His teeth elongated as his fingers turned to claws. “Hurry!” he managed. “Before it’s too late!”
Eyes on her husband, Jennifer groaned. She could feel something chewing her apart. Then her knees faltered and she dropped to the floor. Pressing her back against the nearest wall, her body convulsed. Not once, but three times quickly.
“My baby,” she whimpered.
She ripped open her blouse; buttons popped in different directions. Looking at her stomach, and seeing the strange way the child was moving beneath her skin, she almost understood. Almost. Then when she looked at Richard an important piece of the puzzle clicked into position. It felt like a hard slap in the face, and it was horrifying. She had a monster living inside her, a goddamn monster, trying to get out––Richard’s child.
And Richard was––
Gone.
In his place was something most people will never see: half man, half wolf, bones mending, muscles growing, nose becoming snout, arms becoming legs, hair morphing into fur, hands turning into paws, eyes still green, still the windows to the soul of a man that’s able to comprehend the situation. But his mouth was growing larger and more dangerous with each passing moment. Teeth seemed to be everywhere. Jaws opened far too wide and words escaped like hostages. They were hard to recognize, but much harder to ignore: “Abort. The child.”
Kate, standing in the center of the room with her hands in the air, looked away from Richard in horror. She saw Jennifer leaning against the wall with her blouse pulled open and her skirt hiked up. Her knees were shaking and her pink underwear had turned red. She had one hand cradling her belly as blood leaked from a long tear in her skin, through her trembling fingers, over her wedding ring (a ring she couldn’t bring herself to remove), and across her unpainted nails. She said, “Please Kate, Richard’s