All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
The Wolf Wins
I stared at the inky heart on the palm of my hand. Thoughts of her ran through my mind, racing to take centre stage. How she bit her lip when she was concerned. The way she smiled at me and instantly the world felt better. Her nervous giggle when she didn’t know when to laugh or not. Memories of her tumbleweed copper hair and rosebud scent too. How much I loved her was not a question, how safe she was with me, no matter how safe she felt, was a different matter. I hated seeing the look on her face when I have to turn her down. The sadness in those big, round green eyes and the guilt I felt when I knew it was my fault hurt so much, but not as much as I would hurt her if I agreed.
It happened at least once a month, sometimes twice if I was really unlucky. I would have to go camping with my dad in the mountains, missing two days of school and worrying my girlfriend. It started when Mom died. Everyone thought Dad just needed to get us away from the town that Mom had lived in all her life; that there were too many memories for us to handle. In fact some of my friends thought Dad wouldn’t bring me back. If only it was that simple…
I felt a hand rest on my shoulder. ”Right son. It’s about time we went. We don’t want to be hanging round here at night, do we?“
It was a rhetorical question of course, but I still shook my head in answer. I picked up my duffel bag and dragged it to the car. I wouldn’t be using any of it; it was just in case someone saw us.
The journey was slower than usual. We were thrown about as the car drove over potholes and the sandpaper road. Then the car stopped. The engine spluttered and coughed as Dad turned the key in the ignition. My throat tightened, looked at my dad for reassurance and found none. We had less than an hour to get to safety, to get me away from them.
”Dad!“ I was practically weeping. ”Dad please say you can fix it!! Please… you have to!“
He shook his head. ”I know. Give me five minutes…“
Dad got out of the car and opened the bonnet, releasing a cloud of smoke as the car engine wheezed again.
Five minutes later Dad got in the car, oil covered his fingers and face. His shirt was torn where it had caught on the catch. ”There’s nothing I can do. The toolbox is back at home and there isn’t enough time to call the car recovery company…“ He looked at me. ”You’re gonna have to run it, son. Run as fast as you can toward the clearing. I’ll try to get there before tomorrow.“
I nodded and tried to smile but inside I was more scared than I ever had before; even more scared than when I’d been in the car the night Mom died. The night we crashed.
I mumbled my goodbyes and ran.
The trees scratched my face and hands, their branches caught on my t-shirt, my sneakers slipping in the dirt. I had to get to the clearing. I wouldn’t put them in danger.
I looked up at the night sky. The moon sat there, a round silver ball floating on an ocean of ink, taunting me. I didn’t have enough time. I had to try though.
Then I felt it. It was creeping up on me. It was too late to fight it. The agony burnt in my heart and spread throughout my body like wildfire. My head was pounding as I fought to keep control. Help me!! I’d never had to do this alone before. Dad had always been there for me, talking me through it, keeping me calm but now I was alone and this was too real. My legs buckled beneath me sending me crashing to the floor. I curled up the dying leaves, sobbing. Dad! Mum! Anyone… Just make it stop… My heart was pounding in my ears so hard I thought it would burst. Tears steamed down my face into my t-shirt and then… nothing.
It stopped because it had started. I couldn’t think straight anymore; the wolf had taken over. Their safety was all down to him now.
Pain. Blood. I can smell it. Want it. Want her. Town… Escape? No. Stupid human. Hungry… Want her.
Screaming… Soothing. Got her. He’ll hate it. Hate me. Hate him. Same person. Blame. Me. Him. Us. Not sorry… Never.
I stared at the smudged inky heart on the palm of my hand. I never washed it off, my only link to her. Thoughts of her ran through my mind, racing to take centre stage. How she bit her lip when she was concerned. The way she smiled at me and instantly the world felt better. Her nervous giggle when she didn’t know when to laugh or not. Memories of her tumbleweed copper hair and rosebud scent too. How much I loved her was not a question, how safe she was with me, no matter how safe she felt, was a different matter. I should never have thought I could’ve made it. Dad should’ve locked me in the car, where I was safe; where they were safe. Now she’s gone. I killed her and now I’m alone. It’s over. The wolf wins.
It won’t hurt this time. That’s what Dad says. He said that because I’m willing to give it up this time that I won’t feel anything, it’ll be like going to sleep. That’s what they say about dying too. I suppose, in a way, I am dying. I’m giving up my life so I won’t feel it anymore. Pain. Love. Loss. It’ll all be over.
I close my eyes; will it all to go away and it does. Slowly, everything just dissolves into the darkness. The wolf wins.