5. Monica

5

MONICA

O h, Stacy…

My brain and my tongue had somehow become stuck in a groove. Whether in a sigh or a mere scolding glance, I had used or thought those words far too many times that afternoon.

I loved Stacy. We had been best friends and super close for almost twelve years. Our arguments could be counted on the fingers of one hand and even those arguments were minor. Simple misunderstandings that had been resolved extremely fast. On this particular day, however, she continued to remind me how much she loved to interfere with my business. It would have been welcome in a trivial matter, but Raul's physical condition was far from trivial.

It doesn't help that I didn't believe a word of the story he fed me, for many obvious reasons.

First of all, my flashlight confirmed what I saw and the lights in my living room were on when we brought him inside to further verify. Those puncture wounds were too wide to have been inflicted by any normal dog. They were deeper and bled more heavily. A dog's canines are nowhere near as long and wide as the teeth that caused those wounds.

And if that wasn't surprising enough, his lightning-fast healing was more than astounding. Skin regeneration is a long process. Depending on the nature of the wound, it can take weeks for a man's skin to heal at all, much less to achieve the level of healing that he displayed. Raul's injuries were severe yet, for some reason unknown to me, those puncture marks were almost gone. The two circles at the base of his throat had been reduced to specks, no wider than small moles. All that in what? Eighteen hours, give or take? Just thinking about it boggled my mind. There was no record in history of a man being able to recover from such severe injuries in less than a day. I was sure that if I brought this up to any of my colleagues' they would laugh and demand proof. I would have taken pictures, had it not been for Stacy's interference. This marvel—because that's what it was—would make for a remarkably interesting discussion topic.

The rest of the weekend blew by. Stacy and I unpacked and cleaned up, before enjoying some drinks by the fireplace. Unsurprisingly Raul's name came up. My friend was nothing if not adamant and persistent to a fault. Amid plenty of glasses of gin and tonic, she advised me to "go after the enormous guy with the strange name." She had a point there. He was huge and his Spanish first name was a little exotic, especially for this area. Despite her arguments, my views on the matter of dating had not changed. I appreciated her input and he most certainly was a fine-looking man, but I still needed time. However I had to admit that if I ran into him in a month or two, I wouldn't say "no" to a date with him.

On Sunday afternoon, I escorted Stacy out to her green Chevy, wishing she could spend another day with me here on the mountain. She was a familiar face, and I was about to be alone, living on the edge of a town full of strangers. It broke my heart to hug her goodbye, especially knowing that I wouldn't see her again for at least two weeks.

Courage, Monica. Remember: You chose this.

That thought came to my mind when I clicked the door shut behind me after I had watched her taillights disappear down the road. It was a painful reminder of reality I had selected for myself. Friends and family were three hours away, in a buzzing metropolis that had left me deeply hurt.

I hadn't reached the fireplace, when the sound of my doorbell interrupted my gloomy thoughts. It had to be Stacy since I know no one else. Most likely, she had forgotten something and had come back. Swinging my door open, every hope of seeing her cheerful expression vaporized when I saw that she wasn't the one who had rang my doorbell.

On the beige doormat, stood a male figure I had been struggling to forget for the past several months. At six one with short, blond hair, hazel eyes, and a scruffy beard stood Jack Donahue, my soon-to-be-ex-husband.

"Evening, babe," he smiled down at me. He didn't wait for me to invite him in before he brushed past, raising his glance to the ceiling. "Nice place you've got here. It looks cozy. I like the fireplace, too."

"What in the hell are you doing here?" I ask in an almost growl as I try to suppress my rage. I don't move an inch from my spot, holding the door open and vainly hoping he'd sense my frustration and leave.

"Oh, that's not the way to welcome someone," he protested, turning around. "Especially if that someone happens to be your husband."

"You were my husband," I corrected him, speaking emphatically.

"I'm still your husband!" He raised his voice, his expression stiffening.

"I've got news for you, Jack," I told him, unaffected by his attempt to intimidate me. "Just because we're still married on paper, that doesn't make you, my husband. Thanks for stopping by."

"Okay. I'm sorry." His voice lost most of its volume, his posture relaxing. "Can I try again?"

I gave a derisive snort and looked outside. "I can't believe your nerve."

"Look, I just drove like a billion miles," he pointed out the obvious, raising his hands then dropping them to his sides. "All I'm asking is ten minutes of your time."

"Will you leave right after if I say yes?" I knew this was a silly question, but it was the only one that seemed capable of getting rid of him.

"Yes, I will," he promised. "I miss you, Monica. God knows I've been a jerk, but I miss you."

"I don't miss you," I stated bluntly. "I used to miss the caring man I married before you started acting crazy. And if you'll recall, I tried talking to you. Many times, but you wouldn't listen. So, who's there to miss? You're a new you? I don't think so."

"Come on, babe," he said and made his voice sound sweeter while he leaned forward. "I'll change. I'll bust my butt to change. Can't we forget all about this stupid divorce thing and move on?"

"Stupid divorce thing…" I repeated three of his words, pursing my lips. "That's where you're wrong, Jack. You think I'm making a big deal out of some small little thing. Well, let's get this straight. It's not small. It's final. You and I are through. Over. Now please, get out of here and don't come back."

"Fuck no!" He yelled, slamming his right fist into the wall beside him, rage taking over his face. Tossing both his hands down, he grabbed me by the wrists with too much force and yanked me closer. The pungent scent of alcohol struck my nostrils, and waves of fear coursed through my system. "I'm not leaving this shithole without you!"

"Jack, please!" I begged, feeling my knees giving way. "Let me go! You're not yourself!"

His lips parted, and his jaw trembled barely three inches from my face. I cringed at the stench of alcohol, my heart jumping in my throat. Releasing my right wrist, he jerked his arm back. I clench my eyes, dreading with horrid anticipation what I knew would follow. But nothing happened. No pain was inflicted. I felt no sting. A loud thud pried my eyes open just before the sound of shattering glass. The corner window is shattered into hundreds upon hundreds of pieces.

In the blink of an eye, an unbelievable sight turned fear into absolute horror. Disbelief blocks understanding. It's not possible, doesn't make any sense, but I blinked rapidly, and the scene remained the same. A dark-brown wolf lands inside the broken window of my living room. The wolf whirled his head around and Jack gasped as he threw me away, turning to face the intruder.

A ferocious snarl overshadowed the noise of crunching shards of glass. The wolf drew back its lips, exposing crystal-white teeth and fangs. Its eyes fixed on Jack, then it lunged. My mouth agape, I watched the creature tackle Jack to the floor.

Jack barely got an arm up to protect his face before the wolf's front paws plunge into his chest, knocking him off his feet. The wolf clamps its jaws around the forearm and growls. The growl sent me deeper into the abyss of horror. Jack cries out in agony as the enormous teeth close around his arm and as I watch he snaps his eyes shut. Mixed amidst the human and animal noises I catch the sound of bones cracking under pressure. A violent jerk of the wolf's snout completed what teeth had started, Jack's forearm was now a bloody, mangled mess.

"Help me!" Jack yelps, thrashing underneath the wolf. My knees can't hold me upright anymore and I dropped to the floor like a log, becoming as small as possible while not taking my eyes off the beast, my hands flew to my face in despair while scrambling back and away. Blood stained the creature's gums, a drop rolling off its bottom lip and onto Jack's forehead. Jack's thrashing slowed and his screams became quieter, while the wolf's gaze paused on me. Out of the blue, this wild animal was making eye contact. I didn't think that my shock could get any deeper, but apparently I was wrong. The wolf gave a cheerful yip before it stepped off Jack's body. Without letting go, it turned around. Stepping backward, it dragged my ex-husband away by his pulped arm, across the floor, back the way it came and out into the darkness beyond.

"Oh, dear Lord…" I whisper, the wolf's form disappearing through the still-open white doorframe. I caught one last glimpse of Jack's brownish shoes as beast and man disappeared into the gloom. Tears topple over the edges of my eyes, an ugly truth sinking into me. These were probably Jack Donahue's last moments on this Earth. I'm sure that the creature isn't done with him. It was out for blood, having tasted it, I can only imagine that it was hungry for more. I didn't want to be with Jack, but I didn't wish him dead either. A voice in my head shouted loud enough to be heard over all the feelings that had been overwhelming me.

Do something!

I put my hand on the floor and push myself up. Rising to my feet, I hear my labored breath, and the pounding heartbeat in my ears. Sealing my lips felt impossible. I was desperate for air, feeling like someone had spent the last two minutes trying to choke me to death. Stumbling through the door and reaching the sidewalk, it dawns on me that the wolf hadn't gone far. It was ten yards down the road, standing over an unconscious Jack. It raised its head and, its eyes glinting yellow, looked into mine once more. One more yip ripped through the air while it held its position. I took slow footsteps leading away from my home. As I was leaving the porch, something in my peripheral vision caught my attention. Outside of the ruined window were the remains of a bouquet of lilies, now only scattered petals and crushed stems littered the sidewalk.

"What the hell…?" I whispered, attempting to look back at the beast.

In the seconds it took to switch my attention, I'd missed the wolf leaving. The immense wolf was not where it had stood ten seconds ago, it was running, fading into nothingness, the speed of its gait broadcast its anxiety to get away.

It left me with a broken man lying on the asphalt next to his black Camry. Stunned, in a world of shock and awe. My limbs still shaking, I began to wonder if what I had just witnessed was true, or if my imagination had played a trick on me. Alas, I didn't have the luxury of time. Jack was lying in the road, at the mercy of an oncoming car. I had to move him and call an ambulance, otherwise he would meet his death under someone's wheels…

While I did that, I couldn't help thinking: Those yellow eyes… but I wouldn't let myself finish the thought, ‘cause that'd be crazy, right?