by Amy Cross
The old man grimaces with pain. His body is turning against him. He squeezes his eyes tight shut. There's only one thing left to do, so I bite down hard on his neck, feeling his flesh rip as warm blood flows into my mouth, and I rip his throat out. He tenses and struggles for a moment, his eyes opening wide for the first time, and I wait for him to die. As he continues to twitch, I take another bite from his throat, and another. Still, he twitches. I bite again. This is going wrong. I should have killed him by now, I should have ended his pain. Instead, I'm just making it worse for him. Finally, realizing that I have no other options, I do what I know I should not do: I shift into my human form, grab a brick from the garbage and bring it down hard on the man's head, crushing his skull. As I do so, his eyes stare at me with wonder. He dies, I imagine, questioning whether what he has seen is real.
I drop the brick and quickly shift back to wolf form. That killing didn't go well. I have to get better at completing a quick kill. Slowly, I start to bite at his neck and eat his flesh. I make sure to rub my snout fully into the blood, so that my master will be able to detect the scent on me. It's important that he know I have tasted blood tonight.
“Hi,” says a voice behind me.
I turn to find the girl standing nearby, watching. I don't know her name, but she's the same girl who has been on my mind for all these weeks, the same girl who I saw being followed by Frank Marshall. I instantly become tense, remaining in my wolf form in the hope that she will simply leave me alone.
“Can we talk?” she asks. “I need to know what happened to my friend”.
I look down at the dead guy. Though I'm still hungry, I think I'll have to leave his body now.
“There's this man who says you killed her,” says the girl. “He's trying really hard to persuade me that it's true, but I'm not convinced. I need to hear you tell me what happened. Can you... can you change form for me? Please, I need to speak to you”.
I look into her eyes. Shifting my form in front of her would be a terrible mistake, it would go against everything my master has ever taught me. So why am I considering it? Why am I drawn to this girl, and if there is some higher power trying to draw us together? In my pack, we sometimes speak of a concept known as 'Aesj', which is used to refer to someone to whom your life is inextricably bound for reasons you cannot understand. Does this explain my relationship to this girl?
I know it would be a terrible mistake to let my guard down, even for a moment. Whenever I have trusted humans before, it has turned out to be a terrible mistake. Equally, whenever my species have trusted humans, we have suffered terribly. Though it is tempting to befriend this girl, I know that my master would lash me to within an inch of my life if I made such a terrible choice.
“Please,” she says. “I need to know if you really killed my friend”.
It's at this point that I make my greatest mistake. Ignoring everything else around me, forgetting all my other senses, I take a step toward the girl. For the first time since I arrived in London, I let my defenses down and I do not listen to the world around me. It's because of this that I don't hear, or I don't notice, the sound of someone sneaking up behind me. I'm so focused on the girl, and her beauty, that I don't realize anything is wrong until I suddenly feel something slip around my neck.
I spin around, but it's too late. There's a noose tight on my neck, and I just have time to spot Frank Marshall's grinning face before he hauls on the rope and I'm pulled upwards. Within seconds, I'm four or five meters off the ground, hanging by my neck, unable to breathe. No matter how hard I struggle, there's nothing I can do. This is what my master warned me would happen if I ever allowed myself to trust a human. As the noose tightens around my neck and I struggle to breathe, I try to shift into my human form, but there's still nothing I can do. Gasping and choking, I feel the whole world floating away from me, until finally – still unable to draw breath – I fall into total darkness.
Jess
Frank throws the unconscious wolf into the back of his van and turns to me. He pulls a huge roll of notes from his pocket and counts off what looks like a couple of grand in old, used notes, which he shoves at me.
“Keep your mouth shut,” he says brusquely. “Courtesy of the estate”.
I cautiously take the money and look at it. Somehow it feels wrong to take this, it feels like blood money. But the truth is: I'm starving, I have nowhere to go, and I need this money so badly. Reluctantly, I stuff the cash into my pocket, trying not to look at the still wolf in the back of Frank's van. Despite everything Frank told me about the wolf, the creature looks so weak and helpless right now.
“None of this happened, okay?” Frank says, slamming the van doors shut. I think he realized I was starting to have second thoughts about everything. “You didn't meet me. You didn't meet him. You didn't see or hear anything”. He looks at me and laughs. “Hell, if you start mouthing off, you'll end up locked in a padded cell anyway”.
“What are you gonna do with him?” I ask.
“Why, you wanna watch?” he sneers. He stares at me for a moment. “That money I gave you, yeah? It means that from this moment on, you don't get to ask questions. You don't get to even have questions. This is the end of the road for you, and you should be grateful about that. You don't need to think about this anymore”. He sighs. “I wish I could get out of things as easily as you do. Now seriously, girl. Fuck off. If I ever see you again”...
He goes around to the front of the van, climbs into the driver's seat and starts the engine. I step aside as he backs the van away and then accelerates down the street. After just fifty meters or so, he takes a left into what looks like a small lock-up garage.
Turning, I see the dead old man that the wolf was starting to eat. It seems wrong somehow to just leave him out here, but I guess someone will come along and take him so he can be buried properly. Besides, I really don't want to have to explain how I got here, so I hurry off into the night.
When I reach Leicester Square, it's still only 9pm and the place is heaving with tourists. There's some kind of film premiere over on one side, so I go and look at the stars walking along the red carpet. The only one I recognize is George Clooney, which is pretty cool. I turn and head past the bright lights and then I realize that, hell, I've got two grand in my pocket, I deserve at least a proper meal. So I head into a small burger bar and order a huge meal, then I sit at a window table and finally try to work out what I'm going to do.
“Alright,” says a guy who suddenly sits next to me. I can tell straight away that he's going to cause trouble, from the way he's grinning. He keeps glancing back over at a group of others – a couple of guys, a couple of girls – at a nearby table who are clearly his friends. “Why are you all alone, then?” he asks, staring at me.
“I'm fine, thanks,” I say, concentrating on my food and hoping he'll just leave me alone.
He reaches out a hand for me to shake. “Lloyd,” he says.
“Hi,” I say, not shaking the hand.
“Come on,” he continues, “you can't be happy sat there all by yourself, come over and join us”.
“No thanks,” I say, hurrying to finish eating so I can get out of here.
“What's wrong?” he asks. “Don't you like the look of us or something?” He stares as I eat, waiting for me to answer. “What, you think we look like cunts or something?”
I fold the last part of the burger up into a napkin, put it in my pocket and stand up. “Thanks,” I say. “Got to go. Bye”.
“Fucking bitch,” the guy says as I walk away. I half expect him to follow me, but thankfully he doesn't. I hurry out of the bar and into the safety and anonymity of the crowd. Within a couple of steps I'm in a throng of people, jostling to get past as I head toward Charing Cross Road.
I still don't know where I'm going, but I have this urge to keep moving. I pull the rest of the burger from my pocket, but someone bumps into me and I drop the food on the pavement. Sighing, I push on and soon I'm part of a river of people heading down to
ward Trafalgar Square. It feels good: for a moment, with money in my pocket and no need to worry about food for a few days, I feel like a normal person. It's an incredible feeling, but it dissipates as soon as I get down to Trafalgar Square and watch people pouring in and out of Charing Cross train station. Unlike them, I have nowhere to go, and no-one is waiting at home for me.
As I walk, I pass a phone box. Reluctantly, I go into it and put some coins into the machine, then I dial a familiar number and wait while the phone rings.
“Hello?” asks a voice at the other end.
I stand there, my mouth open ready to say something. But there's nothing to say.
“Hello?” the voice asks again. It's my father's voice.
I put the phone down and head out of the phone box. That was stupid. Really stupid. If he realized it was me... Hell, he probably did get at least a suspicion. After all, how many other people are likely to phone him up like that and then be too afraid to say a word? But I didn't give him the chance to say anything else, because I know what he thinks about me. There's no point just letting him repeat the same old thing. Damn it, I must never, ever be weak like that again. I need to forget his phone number.
“Alright love?” asks a voice behind me. I turn to find Lloyd and his friends from the burger bar have followed me. “No-one home?” Lloyd says, grinning.
I turn and walk away, hoping that this was just a coincidence and that they'll leave me alone. But I quickly realize that they're following me and I'm their sport for the night. As I head down the side of Charing Cross station, hoping to lose them in the crowds around the Embankment area, I feel Lloyd grabbing my shoulder.
“We just want to say sorry for being a bit rude back there,” Lloyd says, forcing me to stop. I consider kneeing him in the crotch and running off, or shouting for help, but I'm still hoping that these idiots might just leave me alone if I wait long enough.
“Okay,” I say finally, nodding. “Bye”.
I try to pull away, but Lloyd holds me back. No-one in the crowd seems to care. I guess they see this kind of thing happening on the streets every night, as they make their way home from work and walk past people who are arguing. To them, this is just a disagreement between friends, just another little incident to not get involved with.
“I'm starting to think you're the rude one,” Lloyd says. His friends are still hanging back a little, apparently amused by watching him mess me around.
“I just want to go,” I say.
“You're pretty,” he replies.
“I really have to go,” I say, turning and managing to slip from his grip. But he grabs my arm and won't let go.
“You live on the streets, do you?” he asks. “Sleeping rough? How come a pretty girl like you ends up homeless? Eh? Aren't there jobs you can do? There's places you can suck cocks for money, haven't you tried that?” He grins. “I'll give you a free audition if you like”.
“Leave me alone or I'll scream,” I say.
“Alright, fucking whore,” he says, the grin vanishing from his face. “Just thought you could use twenty quid, that's all. Just doing you a favor”. He grabs me and pulls me closer. “I wouldn't actually give you twenty quid to suck my cock. Maybe a fiver at most”.
I pull away from him, but as I do, I trip and fall onto the ground. As I land, my teeth dig into my lower lip and split it open. My coat crumples under me and the money Frank gave me flies out onto the pavement, landing next to Lloyd's feet. He bends down, picks up the bundle of notes and stares at me with a look of disbelief.
“Where did this come from?” he asks. He turns to his friends. “The fucking whore's loaded! There must be two grand here!”
“I need that,” I say, getting up, wiping the blood from my lip. “Give it to me, it's mine”.
“Yeah,” he replies, clearly somewhat stunned at how much money I have. “The thing is -” He grins at me for a moment, then he turns and runs. His friends take the cue and run after him. I immediately run after them, pursuing them around the corner and along the busy street. But there are so many people, it's impossible to keep track of Lloyd and soon I'm just running through a sea of people with no idea where my money has gone. Eventually I reach a road crossing and I stop, looking around in the hope that I might see them. But there's no chance. I stand there, with the crowd moving around me, and I realize I'm back to where I started: penniless, alone and with nowhere to go.
I turn and walk back along the street, acutely aware that everyone around me has probably recognized that I'm homeless. They're probably looking at me, glad that they aren't in my position, wondering what kind of mistakes I made to end up like this. But I'm not going to let this stop me. That bastard who stole my money was right about one thing. There's a way I can help myself. I might not like it, but it might be my only chance.
Duncan
If he had any humanity left in him, he'd kill me right now.
Instead, Frank is keeping me alive so he can torture me. And although the pain bites into my body and sears my flesh, I can't help but understand his motivation. After all, this is a man who saw his own father getting ripped apart by members of my own pack; a man who spent more than three decades hunting those wolves and was never able to find them; a man who has had to learn to wear failure well. All that pent-up rage and hatred, and he's taking it out on me. Bless him...
Hanging here, suspended by chains from the ceiling, I await Frank's next attack. He is resting for a moment now, out of breath and wheezing. He's an old man now, and his health is failing. It's possible that his heart will give out with all the excitement. But I suspect he'll hold it all together until he has finally killed me. After that, he'll have nothing to live for anyway. His job will be done.
I shift from my wolf form to my human form, and back again, as he strikes me with irons. It doesn't really matter what form I take, I feel the pain and I endure broken bones and burned skin. The pain is crippling, and it's all I can do to avoid screaming. But I won't give him that satisfaction. The only victory I can possibly score now is to die with dignity and refuse him the pleasure of hearing me beg for my life.
“Tired, dog?” he asks as he approaches me, a large metal chain in his hand. He clutches his chest, a clear sign that his body is starting to fail. He swings the chain at me, and it smashes into my ribs. I feel my bones fracture, and I squeeze my eyes tight shut to try to block out the pain.
“I know it hurts,” Frank says, staring at me. “Even if you don't scream, I can see it in your eyes”. He hits me with the chain again, this time breaking one of my legs. “Let it out,” he says, almost dispassionately. “Scream the way my father screamed”.
I open my eyes and fix him with a dark stare. I've known Frank for many years, and I've become tired of his constant moaning about his father. Yes, his father died horribly, but Frank is using that as a crutch, as an excuse to explore the kind of demons that most men keep hidden.
“It doesn't matter how long it takes you to kill me,” I say slowly. “When it's over, you'll still be standing there, alone, with no-one left to torture but yourself”.
This is all my fault. I never should have trusted that human, but there was something about her that fooled me into believing, just for a moment, that she wouldn't double-cross me. I have no-one else to blame for my death.
Frank stares at me for a moment, then he smashes the chain against my face, fracturing my cheek and causing me to let out an involuntary whimper as I feel my left eye split open. I switch to my wolf form, then back to human. Either way, it's agony. But I feel I have more dignity as a wolf, as if there is something more noble about that form.
“I know you're ready for death,” Frank says, stepping up to me. Is this it? Is he going to fire the silver bullet into my heart from up close? “And you certainly will die at my hands”. He smiles. “But not tonight. Or tomorrow night. Or even this week. No, I'm going to keep you alive for months, filled with pain, until I get bored and decide to put you out of your misery. Do you understand? I'm goi
ng to play with your pain until you scream for mercy”.
With that, he makes to smash the chain into my face, but at the last minute he holds back. Instead, he laughs, turns and walks away.
“See you tomorrow,” he calls over his shoulder as he heads out the door, leaving me hanging there, bleeding and broken, with crushed bones and a damaged eye. How much longer must I wait to die?
Jess
“Sure, I can use a girl like you. But girls like you are a dime a dozen, if you know what I mean. I get five or six like you coming in here every day, asking for work. You need something special, something that helps you stand out from the crowd”. Tom Rossiter, the fat, bald, over-confident owner of some of London's seedier strip clubs, leans back in his creaking leather chair as he eyes me up. “How long have you been on the streets?” he asks eventually.
I shift awkwardly in my seat. “What do you mean?” I ask.
He laughs. “Come on, love. I wasn't born yesterday. You're sleeping rough, I can tell. You're damaged goods. The question is, how damaged?”
I stare at him, not sure what to say.
“How long have you been on the streets?” he asks bluntly.
“A few months,” I say.
“Maggots?” he asks.
I frown. “What?”
“I've had girls come in,” he says, “looking for work, and it turns out they're fucking infested with maggots. You got maggots?”
I shake my head.
He stares at me, sizing me up, deciding if he likes the look of me. “You're not a dancer,” he says eventually. “And you're not a waitress. But you might be what we call a back-room girl. Do you know what that is?”
I think about it for a moment. “I'm not sure,” I say.