Chapter 25
Sandra
The computer turns on, and the screen illuminates my face as I lean over the keyboard. I don't sit down in the chair because I'm naked; I still need to go out and get the clothes I had to leave in the bushes.
I take a deep breath, trying to focus on what really matters now: Lucy's email. She must have replied by now.
I open my inbox and see that I'm right. My heart races, and a pang of guilt hits me as I read her words.
Sandra, I was freaking out and about to buy a ticket to Salem, I was going on my next day off. If you hadn't sent me that email, I would have gone there and searched the whole city looking for you, because you still haven't confirmed your apartment address.
Are you really okay? I'm still worried, you know?
I love you, my friend.
The weight of Lucy's words affects me more than I'd like to admit. She really cares, and I... I left her in doubt, in uncertainty. I didn't want to do that. I didn't want to worry her, I didn't want to involve anyone in this chaos.
I feel a lump in my throat as I reply quickly, my mind still spinning around it.
I'm sorry for everything, Lucy. You don't need to worry. I'm fine. I'll sort things out here, and when everything calms down, we can talk properly. I hope you didn't spend any money on this. You've always been so good to me. I'm really sorry. Don't worry.
I love you too, very much!
I close the email window and, for a moment, I stand there, motionless. The sound of the empty house is strange. Mark is at work, and I, on the other hand, find myself lost in a routine I did not choose.
But there's nothing to think about, I need to go get my clothes and pick up the spare key I hid under the rock.
I look at the kitchen door. It's closed, but not locked.
Mark didn't lock it, and for a moment, I wonder if he simply forgot or if, somehow, he trusts that the cat won't go too far.
Or maybe... maybe he knows that when I'm in danger, I'm always somehow connected to him. Mark will always come to save me.
I walk to the back door and turn the handle, leaving it ajar once again. Fresh air rushes in through the opening, and a feeling of freedom washes over me for a moment.
I force my transformation and become a cat again, easily jumping over the wall before running to the bushes where I left my clothes.
There is no one around, the environment silent, as if the stars are granting me the privacy I need.
Even in the soft morning light, as the sky brightens, I know they are there, ethereal and silent, watching me from afar.
Without hesitation, I transform again, feeling the transition quick and full of necessity. I hurriedly put my clothes on, adjusting the fabric as I pat the dress to remove the leaves and dirt that have stuck to it.
I feel my essence more intensely, greater than in previous days, despite the transformations that drained it today.
The crack in the barrier that blocks it seems to have widened, still existing, but weaker, as if each time I force the transformation, the space where the essence flows expands a little more, releasing a growing energy, still contained, but more present.
I return to the cabin, this time when I reach the gate I type in the access code and enter in my human form. I search for the stone where I kept the key and lift it, taking the object in my hand and bringing it back to the key ring.
I take a deep breath and exhale with a sigh.
Now that the task is complete, I feel lost, as if I have forgotten how to behave as a human. There is a disconnect, a strange feeling of no longer knowing how to act.
I decide to brush my teeth and take a long hot bath, trying to reconnect with myself. I think about going up to my room, using the en suite bathroom, but something stops me. My cheeks flush as I remember last night, and an unexpected shyness takes hold of me, as if it were somehow wrong.
Which is funny, because yesterday I had no problem watching Mark masturbate.
Something inside me breaks free when I'm in cat form, as if the rules no longer exist, as if I can hide, lose myself, do whatever I want without anyone judging me.
As an animal, I am free, unbound by morality or repression.
But as a woman, I still carry the shadow of that trauma, the remnants of what that cheating bastard did to me, as if it were impossible to forget the limitations imposed on me, the judgements that still haunt me.
I can't believe I almost lost my virginity to him...
A shiver runs down my spine, and I grimace in disgust. I hate that my mind took me from Mark to that disgusting man. The excitement quickly turns to revulsion. I know the bastard is dead, and although I don't want to rejoice in anyone's death, I can't deny that he deserved it.
I decide to take a shower in the bathroom on the first floor, then go to the kitchen and make a sandwich with whatever I find in the fridge.
When I finish eating, I tap my fingers on the counter, trying to think of what to do for the rest of the afternoon, having enough energy to remain human for a little while longer.
I look out the window, feeling the urge to go outside...
I shouldn't go out again. I know that. But there's something inside me that pushes me forward, something that still wants to feel more, explore more.
But behind that desire, there is an even greater one, which makes my heart race just thinking about it.
I need to see Mark again, as Sandra.
I need to see his reaction when he sees me again, to understand what it all means, what there is between us. He's clearly attracted to me, he came thinking about me!
And knowing that, knowing that there is a chance to explore our attraction, even if only for a few brief minutes while I can control my essence...
It's the only thing that makes me feel alive right now.
And so, without thinking, without planning, I'm walking back to the street.
I feel like I can stay in this human form longer, maybe an hour, maybe thirty minutes... It's a risk. But a risk I want to take.
I walk to the house I broke into to steal the clothes. The scent of my cat form is still there, very faint, but present. I can take advantage of that, pretend the cat sneaked into the yard again when he asks if I've seen her.
I just need to get him to come here...
And for that, for that I need to feel fear, I need to activate my collar so that it brings him to me.
I need to think of something scary, the worst thing that ever happened to me.
I close my eyes and force myself to go back to that night.
I remember the bitter cold, the putrid smell of the wendigo, the sound of claws tearing through the air. Of claws tearing me apart. I think of the pain that came in waves, burning and unbearable, leaving me weak, defenceless, on the verge of death...
But the emerald remains cold, motionless against my neck, indifferent to the terror I try to recreate.
I open my eyes and exhale through my mouth in a frustrated snort.
"Where is the lizard when you need it, huh?" I mutter.
I turn my back on the house, scanning the residential street with my eyes, looking for an alternative. A few metres to my right is the intersection with the main road. Cars pass sporadically, and a terrible idea forms in my mind.
Before rationality can stop me, I dash towards the corner and cross outside the pedestrian crossing. A car approaches quickly. My heart races, but I force myself not to look, to pretend I haven't noticed.
I take one step and then another...
Then the horn pierces the air. The sound is loud, frightening. The tyres screech against the asphalt as the driver tries to brake, tries to swerve. My body reacts and, in a cat-like reflex, I jump back, escaping by a hair's breadth.
But the impact that doesn't happen hits me in another way — my heart pounds, adrenaline burning like ice in my veins, making my whole body tremble.
The man curses something before his car disappears into the distance and I return to the safety of the pavement. My chest rises and falls in frantic breaths, and only then do I realise: the choker is warm against my skin, pulsing, as if following the rhythm of my heart.
"It... it worked," I stammer, still trembling, my chin quivering.
I force my legs to move and dash back, fear still vibrating under my skin as I walk down the street to that house. Each step weighs more than the last, as if the terror refuses to let me go. But it's not the near-death experience that scares me.
What truly terrifies me is the sanity I have lost.
What I am capable of doing just to have a moment with Mark. Just to stand before him as myself. As a woman.
And so I wait.
Four minutes. That's all it takes for his car to appear, pulling into the street with force, its tyres screeching on the asphalt.
I know this because I counted the seconds.
He must have broken every traffic law to get here so fast.
And all I do is smile.
The black pickup glides down the street and stops with a slight jolt. The door opens, and Mark steps out, alert, his wolfish eyes scanning the surroundings until they settle on me.
My heart races, an electric current running down my spine. My palms are sweaty, and I rub them surreptitiously on the fabric of my dress, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach.
Mark walks towards me, his steps steady, his gaze fixed on my face, a crooked smile appearing on his lips.
"By any chance, have you seen my cat around... again?"
The question carries a hint of amusement, as if he can't believe the coincidence of finding me in the right place at the right time again.
I bite my lip, holding back a smile.
"By chance, yes."
He narrows his eyes, crossing his arms as he studies me, the shadow of a smile playing on his lips.
"Hmm... it seems you're always around when she decides to run away."
I give a low, nervous laugh and rub my hands on my dress again.
"Coincidences of life."
Mark runs his hands through his hair and pulls it back as he lets out a sigh.