Chapter Twenty-Three #3
I opened my eyes again, and spared a glimpse into the wolf’s milky, glowing eyes. The witches may have seen Big Red as a monster, but they were still a person. They had a whole life beyond this chaotic persona that they took on against their will every full moon.
A past. A family. Hopes and dreams.
Just like I did.
I didn’t have any memories of me and Big Red together. At least, not any happy ones. So I had to hope my own memories would be enough.
I pulsed those images into Big Red’s mind, flashing one after the other like images on a camera.
My sisters and I in the kitchen, flinging flour at each other as we baked scones.
My father and I galloping through the forest, in hot pursuit of a rabbit.
Rocky shoreline sunsets with my cousins, skipping stones across the water and wondering what lay beyond the endless ocean.
Lastly, I thought of when I was very young.
When my mother was still alive, and the five of us were together.
My sisters as babies, being soothed in the massive wooden rocker that still adorned my family’s living room.
Me as a toddler, my tiny hand in hers as she walked me down the dirt path to Hollenboro’s town square.
A million memories, all shoved away in the back of my mind for far too long. It nearly made tears slip from my eyes, but I swallowed that feeling away.
I felt something snap within Big Red’s mind. At first, I thought its rage was returning. Then the emotion settled, and I realized it was shock.
They were reacting to my memories.
Is Big Red imagining their own family?
Are they starting to remember who they are?
“Nettie…”
Rowena’s voice was soft with awe. I kept my eyes shut, pushing more memories into Big Red’s mind. I was so close. I couldn’t lose them now.
“Nettie… the light… it’s fading…”
My eyes snapped open. The wolf’s head was still frozen in place, wide eyes staring vacantly at the night sky. The moonglow was receding, dissipating into thin air like a dying star, until Big Red’s dimmed eyes came to a close.
The wolf slouched forward, and I could tell they were losing consciousness.
The vines cracked, followed by a hard thud.
Big Red was already in their human form by the time they hit the ground.
I stood there, ribs aching, head throbbing, and eyes wide in disbelief.
I did it.
I actually did it.
I should have been celebrating. Rowena and I should’ve been lovingly embracing, jumping for joy, basking in our impossible accomplishment. We should’ve been running back toward the other witches, to happily declare that it was possible to calm down frenzied werewolves.
To prove to them that there was a benefit to letting me stay in Wisteria Grove.
But none of those things happened. Instead, my attention was solely focused on the crumpled human form in front of me.
They were face down, arms splayed out by their head and their legs bent in a fetal position.
They were wearing a long flowy dress, a diluted forest green in color, with brown lace-up boots that were similar to my own.
They were an adult, short but not overly so, older than I was but not elderly.
Their pale hands were small and calloused, but were yet to show any wrinkles or other signs of age.
But their most distinctive feature, the only one that truly caught my eye and made my breath hang in my lungs, was their hair.
Their long, thick, wavy red hair.
Big Red was a woman.
I took a step towards her, feeling like I should offer the unconscious woman some sort of assistance. But I froze when her hand twitched. A few seconds later, it shifted, and the woman’s head rose off the ground.
She took a few moments to fully stand up, still sore and exhausted and shaky on her feet. It wasn’t until then that I was able to fully see her face.
She was middle-aged, likely somewhere in her forties. Her face was pale, round, and youthfully plump, but I could see her age in her eyes – from the thin crow’s feet to the heavy bags that pulled at her eyelids. It made her look tired. And sad.
Oh gods…
I knew that face.
Even if I hadn’t seen it in fifteen years.
She rubbed her eyes, blinking a few times to rouse herself back to reality. Then she looked at me, really looked at me, and her face fell. As if her world just turned upside down.
“N-Nettie?” she stammered, her voice croaking.
I knew that voice, too. It used to sing me lullabies at night.
No… this can’t… this can’t be possible…
“It’s you!” the woman exclaimed, taking an unsteady step towards me. I noticed her thin, spindly hands were shaking. “It’s… it’s really you! Nettie, my love, my sweetheart… I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry…”
Everything I knew, my entire life story, had changed in an instant.
I felt like I was going to be sick. Not from the stress or exhaustion or the pain, like when I’d been trying to subdue the werewolf woman in front of me.
This was a different kind of sickness. The kind that resulted from a discovery so shocking it ripped the ground out from beneath my feet. The kind that sent my mind into a spiraling freefall where nothing made sense anymore.
The woman let out pained, mournful sobs as she stumbled forward, nearly tackling me to the ground with her embrace. Her whole body was trembling uncontrollably, but she was real. Solid. Alive.
My mind was so heavily steeped in disbelief, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.
She continued her agonizing sobs, her tears leaving damp marks on the sleeve of my dress.
No…
I don’t understand…
My unsteady fingers, shaking from both the cold of the night air and the shock of the situation, gently curled around the sobbing woman’s back.
I didn’t even realize I was crying until my tears hit the dirt at our feet.
This isn’t real.
This isn’t happening.
This can’t be happening.
But it was.
My mother was alive.