Sister Wolf

Part One: Haunted House

Present

Friday, October 31st, 2014. Halloween evening. 

Heavy thumps rattle the bathroom door beside the sink, slacking on the already-worn doorframe.

Ignore it. I tell myself.

The mirror below the medicine cabinet trembles in protest.

I bite down on my lower lip, silently pleading with myself. Just ignore it. 

A sharp clatter strikes the ground and against my better judgment, draws my attention to the cool splatter I feel over my feet. Dark speckled liquid dots my skin as if I'd been pinpricked repeatedly. My eyes dart to the blood pool fleeing from the plastic cup that no longer rested on the side of the sink.

Shit.

I grab a rag from the laundry bin to clean up the spill, but I only manage to smear the artificial blood across the pristine tiled floor. The tiles weren't in great condition to begin with, being already slightly discolored and chipping near where the toilet met the wall. But it isn't the spill itself I worry about. The sight of so much red on the floor makes my stomach knot, and if it stains… I force myself to breath in deep and hold it there for only a few seconds before releasing. I'll worry about the mess later. Damage done, I grab an older towel from the shelf to throw down on the floor knowing it wouldn't be missed when I take out garbage tomorrow morning. I don't bother looking to see if it stained the floor. My feet are evident enough. After rinsing off the cup and returning it to its spot on the side of the sink, I find myself staring at the door again, heart pounding against my ribcage as the thumping returns.

I stare long and hard at the door, fully aware of the pitter-pattering of my frantic heartbeat fluttering around in my chest.

Ignore it. I take a deeper breath. She will go away eventually… Maybe, I tell myself again. With effort, I force the breath out of my lungs and compel myself to face the mirror. A reformed reflection of my facade scrutinizes back, the face both unfamiliar and discernible is void of all the right emotions. I should be smiling. I should be doing something like it at least. All that time spent trying to get the shading right and here I am scowling. It's not the makeup's fault, though I am out of practice. Two years' worth of denying myself such things and I still haven't bothered to touch my markers and pens. I thought it would be easier to paint my face than to lose myself on paper. I never liked the makeup away since I couldn't make myself look pretty. Nothing I ever create ends up looking pretty, but monsters are something I do best. So why can't I smile at what I've made? I try then, to force out the smile, but it never quite reaches my eyes, and doing so just brings back the scowl. I don't know why I'm even bothering with this, and maybe it's because I'm being rushed for time or my own criticism gnawing away at me, but I can't for the life of me draw out a simple smile. Not even a forced one, of all days.

The breath that leaves my lungs makes me dizzy as I let my shoulders slump at my sides. How long was I holding it? I hadn't realized.

I shake my head and narrow my gaze at the eyes narrowing back. Focus, I tell them. I just need to focus.

I look myself over a hundred times more, feeling exactly how I felt when I first dragged myself into the bathroom. That was over an hour ago before the door started being assaulted both verbally and physically by a short and scrawny version of my shared blood. The little grouchy spawn hasn't left the door since, endlessly continuing her assault. Though she hasn't said much in a while. I know I should be the bigger person and let her have the bathroom. I know a part of me has been purposedly taking longer than necessary while the other half has been struggling to get ready for tonight. It still isn't an excuse. I should just let her have the bathroom.

I should be doing a lot of things, I remind myself.

I don't look away from the mirror. I don't stop ignoring my sister. I only continue to stare at myself, judging what needs to be fixed. Whatever can make this...ache in my gut stop twisting. Even with all my effort to look like the wolf I always imagined in my head, I know that everything I have on is just face paint with a few extra bits of fake materials to shadow me against the dark blanket of the night. That's all it is. Fake. A lie, but I can pretend. And that's fine too. I contemplated using real fur in the beginning, but I don't like to ruin what little hides I own. So, I can pretend, pretend my little beating heart out. Pretend that everything is fine. That nothing is going to hurt us again and again. Just for one night.

I try again, to smile. I even think about that scene from The Shining and convince myself that I can be far scarier than a madman with an axe. I can pretend to be scarier. Perhaps pretend to smile...

I look dreadful, even without the hide. Perhaps akin to a wraith with all the black I have on.

Smile.

I try again. And again.

Pretend.

But that frown remains, as do those thoughts that will not leave my head.

Nausea rolls through me in more brutal waves than seeing red on the floor as those same thoughts pry themselves open like claws digging through the dirt towards sunlight. They are threatening to surface, threatening to drown me and become something else. Something more frightening and awful. The most recent was of my father's conversation with Mycelia I hadn't intended to hear, and I'm sure they didn't want us to know right away. I keep telling myself not to think about it, that everything will be alright tomorrow, next week, a month from now, maybe even a year or two.

Two years and a month. The thought strikes me hard like being whipped by overgrown weeds and faster than I could ever prepare for.

I grip the sides of the sink and shut my eyes, but it doesn't stop the thought from repeating, over and over like a record skipping on the same line. My chest constricts. Suddenly it's getting harder to breath.

Stop. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think –

"I'm going to pee all over your bed, I swear to god, Shae!"

The sound of my sister's voice comes through in a booming crash. I blink several times, never once responding to her, though I'm beginning to think she'll soon pummel her way in if I don't answer her again. I force myself to swallow that painful knot of emotional dread threatening to choke me down and straighten my posture. I can't afford another breakdown. I'll just have to deal with it. And dealing with it usually involves ignoring it until later. That will be fine too.

Clearing my throat, I finally answer my sister in a voice I try hard to keep steady, "Give me a minute."

Leaning closer to the mirror, I force myself to focus for real this time and inspect any flaws I missed in the paint. I narrow my gaze.

Why did I make the paint so dark around my eyes again?

Immediately my head snaps back to the sink as I scramble for something else to use.

Another hard thump rattles the door, this time her voice comes barreling through in an exasperating whine, "It's been literally hours! How long does it take to put on a costume?"

My lips twitch at that because I know for a fact it's been only half an hour since I began hearing her attack the poor door, and after looking at the clock above the back wall... whatever ghost of a smile that started to form, falters. I've been in the bathroom for three hours since I started this messy process. Surely, I can't be reading that right.

"You're exaggerating again," I lie smoothly.

The knob wobbles once again just as aggressively as the first twelve or so times as she adds, "I am not! I've been counting!"

"Oh, come on. You can hardly read a clock." And apparently, I can.

It's really been three hours. So much for eating dinner. Right on cue, I feel my stomach growl.

"Hush," I mutter at my gut.

Her response is a harder thump near the bottom of the door. I raise a brow at that, then look back at the door a second later when a hiss of pain sounds that roughly becomes an aggravating moan. She growls so noisily I begin to wonder if she had been born from some wild creature out in the forest and was deliberately dropped at our doorstep for how she misbehaved. We came from the same womb, but believing such things were true is fun. Stoat rolls off the tongue better than sister anyway.

"Did that hurt?"

That probably hurt.

I hear her huff and slap the door just as hard, growling, "NO."

Here we go with that tough act.

Another small smile twitches its way across my lips. A genuine one I have no problem making. I pick up another brush and ask, "Did you learn anything from doing that?"

"SHAE!"

Something harder than a fist rams into the door, and I nearly choke on a laugh that barely leaves my lips. Judging by the sharp snap of wood cracking and the sudden silence that fell over my sister, it became obvious that she had done something incredibly foolish. I don't have to see for myself considering that the door is hollow.

"You put a hole in the door, didn't you?"

There's a moment of pause on her end. "NO," she repeats in that same tough voice of hers.

"Well, I won't tell Dad as long as you stop abusing the poor door," I hesitate, "and let me finish. I'm almost done. Promise." I glance back at my reflection again and gently touch the side of my cheek. More paint, and then I'll just have to roll with it.

"But you said that literally fifteen minutes ago!"

And what glorious silence came from those fifteen minutes alone. Until Eva startled me into dumping the glass of fake blood. Until those damned thoughts came to ruin everything...

I bite hard on my lower lip.

No, we are not thinking about this. We are finishing this damn costume. Be a wolf. Don't think about it.

Eva's long exaggerated groan rang through my ears like some bellowing hound, "Shae I really need to pee. Can you at least stop what you're doing for five seconds?"

I force an eye roll as if she can see it, and say, "I'm almost done – just hold your horses, child. You're a youngling. Just hold it."

"SHAE I CAN'T."

Like a switch being flipped, I erupt into a fit of bubbly laughter after hearing her voice crack in that coyote shriek of hers; the brush in my hand immediately dives onto the floor as I stagger to hold myself against the sink. In the most dramatic way possible, I hear my sister ram her forehead against the middle of the door, considering her height, before finishing off with a yowl-like whine as she growls through the hollowed wood," Stop laughing at me!"

No longer bothering to contain myself, I only shake my head and retrieve the brush from the floor. Another casualty in my apparent three-hour-long endeavor. I hate to imagine how long it takes normal girls who do wear makeup every day to get ready in the bathroom and to have to be their sister. But to be fair, I'm sure all other girls out there don't have a stoat for a sibling. Cute and cuddly on the outside and horrendously unpleasant at their core. Utterly savage, destructive little beasts, and to think I share a house with one who sleeps right outside my door in another room.

I pretend to shiver, then bare my teeth at the thought, remembering what shares this house with that little stoat.

A much larger and tooth-snarling wolf.

When it goes quiet for a moment, I touch up the black paint smeared across the top half of my face, making a faded effect that surpasses my cheeks. The attempt is short-lived, however, when I hear her tinkering with the doorknob.

Stubborn thing.

"You're not going to unlock it."

Stubbornly, she ignores me and continues with her attempt at lockpicking. And to my surprise, and dismay, something eventually clicks.

Like a bolt of lightning, I strike the door hard with my right leg and forearm just before Eva has the chance to open it. The blow hurt well enough to leave a throbbing pain in my entire right side, but I grit my teeth to it and hold myself firmly against the door.

Clever little stoat.

Her frustration isn't enough to push open the door, no matter how hard she tries to shove her way inside. She may be clever enough to unlock it, but there is no way she is getting through. I'm a lot bigger and stronger than she is, and we both know it.

"I am going to pee all over this floor, Shae!"

I grin full teeth and throw out mockingly, "I thought you said you'd pee all over my bed?"

Her answering screaming growl that follows a familiar thud against the door causes me to snicker, "You're going to give yourself brain damage, child."

"You're already giving me brain damage for holding it this long!"

"That doesn't even make sense."

"I HAVE TO PEE, SHAE!"

"Then go outside you hellion!" In one motion I relock the door and step back in front of the mirror, leaving one eye fixated on the knob. Her assault continues. I smile.

Snatching the red tube of paint, I pour a glob onto my right hand and make a fist. The color smears across my palm and fingers leaving the palm a bright crimson. I grin happily and quickly get to work finishing up. Keeping my ears strained to the sudden silence that fell into the hall, I shut my left eye to press my painted hand over the left side of my face, holding it there for only a few seconds before dragging it slowly down. I pull my hand away only to stare.

Leaning closer to the mirror, I gawk at the face staring back. This time I don't see myself criticizing with that harsh scowl. I look different, yes, but I feel...accomplished. I'm not sure what the right word should be, but the feeling is surely there. The striking image of my reflection brings forth a devious smile that fills me with something strange, and I accept it gladly. Like a new purpose or an idea taking root.

Quickly I throw on the black wolf hide.

"DON'T IGNORE ME, SHAE!" Eva dramatically roars from the other side of the door; her fists back at it as she proceeds to beat the damn wood to death. Apparently, she doesn't want to try picking the lock again.

And again, I fall back into ignoring her.

Finishing up the straps and snapping in the final clip, I steal another glance at myself in the mirror while combing my fingers through the heavy black fur that covers the top features of my face. With soft triangular ears stitched onto the fur around a handcrafted skull of a wolf head I made myself, I reach for the black thread on either side of the wolf's cheeks before tying them down to the dog collar around my throat, securing it where it rests against the top of my head. The wolf skull has no eyes since I wanted to be able to see through the hallowed gaps if I pushed it down farther. Unfortunately, the damn skull won't fit over my face with my glasses still on, so the alternative would be going out blind. Because wolves don't wear glasses and I'm not going to change my mind. Even if it dramatically kills me.

Leaving the skull where it rests now, I can see the silver-painted fangs without an issue, and for a moment a thought occurs to me. It makes me wonder if this is what any small animal would see while in the jaws of a predator like a wolf. Is this what it must feel like, to be devoured?

Drifting from thoughts of werewolves and bizarre theories, I wrap the rest of the wolf's hide around me fully like a cloak that extends well past my waist, ending in a well-crafted tail I also took the time to make. If I weren't about to go outside in the elements, I would have enjoyed dressing up in real animal pelts and using one of the two fox tails hanging on the walls of my room for my own. Among other pelts and dead things packed away up in the attic, I managed to keep the ones I had found or bought with my own money while working at the local gas station in our town. Though I'm sure that would have sent many strange looks my way, even during the night of Halloween. I know Eva wouldn't mind, but she too has a self-conscious side about sharing those sorts of hobbies with others outside of our circle. Despite our curiosity about dead things, I guess it wasn't normal for some people to keep deceased animal parts, skins, bones, or teeth in their room amongst books, trinkets, and other objects like a decorative dragon ax or a badass sword you bought from your cousin who lives two states away. And not to forget the mounted grey fox I had found beside one of two dumpsters behind the auto shop near that same gas station that I snuck out to in the middle of the night to retrieve. Despite the hint of gasoline, which probably is a safety hazard in the house, the taxidermy wasn't terrible. Seeing a grey fox, though long dead and stuffed, brought out this wave of curiosity mixed with fascination since I had never seen one with my own eyes before, nor did I ever expect one to grow so big as this one is. He's posed in an alert stance, ears pointed forward with his head high and tail low, front paw lifted while the rest remains grounded. It is frozen endlessly in time with glossy rich brown eyes staring blankly from the top shelf facing the door in my room. I still don't know why someone would leave such a thing there by the dumpsters; maybe it was the smell of gas or the oily residue on the end of his tail and back paws, but I'm sure if anyone went into my room, Sheriff Phenny wouldn't be the only thing that would stick out oddly to them.

Brushing all thoughts aside, I peer back at my reflection noting what is left to do. The pelt is already making my skin itch a little for being faux fur, but at least I'll be warm wearing it outside. If that's even an upside to tonight's travels. I'm not so sure If itching to death would be better than turning into an ice cube. The thought of living without it is nearly tempting but leaving it behind would just be a waste. I'll just have to suffer with scratchy skin.

"You know what? Go ahead and break the whole door down and see what that accomplishes." I shoot back before she can force in another word.

"Yeah, and we'll see who Dad believes!"

"Go right ahead. We'll both get punished for it then."

A lewder curse word flies out her mouth that would surely earn her an ass whopping from either Mycelia or our father. I don't bother correcting her since I have another idea already in motion.

"Language!" I warn but no such authority reaches that word as another bubble of laughter threatens to overthrow me. I squash it back down, reminding myself that I am the eldest here since someone has to be responsible. Yet what I have planned is the opposite of responsibility. The pounding doesn't stop, earning me an eye roll as I grin back at my reflection. If she really has to go that badly, well then she can go outside like a stray.

She ignores me, like always, and proceeds to pound even harder on the poor door. I mentally fill in a list of everything that would cause Eva to piss herself as I finish strapping myself into the near pitch-black wolf hide, "Waterfalls, rivers, a trickling from the faucet," I hook in each strap for the arms, around my thighs, leaving the last clip that lies around my waist before carrying on with the list, "whooshing streams, heavy rain on the tin roof, geysers spewing-"

"Stop it! You're going make me pee, you jerk!"

"Then don't think about it, you fool!" I bark back and laugh.

Drifting from thoughts of werewolves and bizarre theories, I wrap the rest of the wolf's hide around me fully like a cloak that extends well past my waist, ending in a well-crafted tail I also took the time to make. If I weren't about to go outside in the elements, I would have enjoyed dressing up in real animal pelts and using one of the two fox tails hanging on the walls of my room for my own. Among other pelts and dead things packed away up in the attic, I managed to keep the ones I had found or bought with my own money while working at the local gas station in our town. Though I'm sure that would have sent many strange looks my way, even during the night of Halloween. I know Eva wouldn't mind, but she too has a self-conscious side about sharing those sorts of hobbies with others outside of our circle. Despite our curiosity about dead things, I guess it wasn't normal to some keeping deceased animal parts, skins, bones, or teeth in your room amongst books, trinkets, and other objects like a decorative dragon ax or a badass sword you bought from your cousin who lives two states away. And not to forget the mounted grey fox I had found beside one of two dumpsters behind the auto shop near that same gas station that I snuck out to in the middle of the night to retrieve. Despite the hint of gasoline, which probably is a safety hazard in the house, the taxidermy wasn't terrible. Seeing a grey fox, though long dead and stuffed, brought out this wave of curiosity mixed with fascination since I had never seen one with my own eyes before, nor did I ever expect one to grow so big as this one is. He's posed in an alert stance, ears pointed forward with his head high and tail low, front paw lifted while the rest remains grounded. It is frozen endlessly in time with glossy rich brown eyes staring blankly from the top shelf facing the door in my room. I still don't know why someone would leave such a thing there by the dumpsters; maybe it was the smell of gas or the oily residue on the end of his tail and back paws, but I'm sure if anyone went into my room, Sheriff Phenny wouldn't be the only thing that would stick out oddly to them.

Brushing all thoughts aside, I peer back at my reflection noting what is left to do. The pelt is already making my skin itch a little for being faux fur, but at least I'll be warm wearing it outside. If that's even an upside to tonight's travels. I'm not so sure If itching to death would be better than turning into an ice cube. The thought of leaving without it is nearly tempting, but leaving it behind would just be a waste. I'll just have to suffer with scratchy skin.

"Now, if you'd be so kind, sweet sister, as to move away from the door," I start, well acknowledging the fact that she most likely no longer cares what comes out of my mouth, "I'll even help you with your costume. Okay? I'm coming out now." Gently placing my glasses in their case and setting them safely inside the medicine cabinet, I reach for the container on the opposite side of the sink. I've never been exactly comfortable wearing contacts, let alone colored ones, but it's a small price to pay for the transformation. That and the itchy skin...

Briefly, I recall the words of an eye doctor I haven't seen in over three years when I got my eyes dilated for the first time. I was told then that I have tears in my eyes. Something rare that didn't have a lot of information to go on other than to make sure I get my eyes dilated every year to keep track of it, so that was epic. You can see how that worked out. Now I've seen pictures of myself when I was small and still in preschool. I didn't wear glasses then, not until sometime in elementary, but who knows when I started having problems with my vision. Having that knowledge though didn't bother me when I first was told, not until much later. Then it prodded at a rather raw worry of mine that made it sometimes hard to ignore. But I guess if I had to choose between worrying about something that hasn't even happened yet and choosing to have fun, I think I can manage to ignore it. Just like I will ignore the fact that I will be going out blind because a wolf did not wear glasses. Who cares If I'm being stubborn? A wolf can be stubborn too.

And a wolf could see just fine.

What I'm doing is obviously reckless, but I've done stupider things than wander the streets of our town blind in the middle of the night. Because the only thing that would make this choice even stupider is If I didn't know the south end of our town, which is where our house resides, like the back of my hand. Luckily I do. All the countless nights of walking around outside through the streets and woods ever since I was seven sure came in handy. Especially when it's the only thing that seems to relax me these days, just like it had been my lifeline a few years ago. Not waiting for a second longer, I pop open the container and carefully place the yellow contacts in either eye. I am not a fan of the sensation of my finger touching my eye, an act I suddenly find incredibly ironic since I used to touch my eye a lot and made it move when I was younger. It used to freak out a lot of the kids on my street and then the kids in school. It's one of many things that I took into consideration that might have caused the tears in my eyes, but I have to remind myself regularly of what the doctor had said because even if I never touched my eyes, or stared up at the sun, or even had window cleaner sprayed into them, none of those things would have caused the tears. Though all of those things surely didn't help. In my own words, I guess what I have is an anomaly since she told me it wasn't hereditary, but rather something that just happens sometimes. What an incredibly cruel thing that just happens sometimes. But like I said before, it wasn't something that bothered me before, mostly because I was like fourteen. Not a great age to start taking your health very seriously, but hey, I had other issues going on.

Taking a deep breath, I fixate on the silvery black gauntlet finger rings that bare claws on each of my fingers I had sharpened for a real feel. I give them a good test against the floral wall, only to frown at the light indentations I leave behind on its surface.

"Woops," I mumble. So much for keeping the house exactly as dad had left it. Hopefully, he won't notice it. "Guess I made the claws a little too sharp..." I peer down at the claws bound to my fingers curiously, letting the ends touch and glide against one another, pondering on what it would be like to have actual claws. What kind of beast would I be? I scoff at myself considering what I am dressed to be tonight. A wolf no doubt. I have no real intention to use these gauntlets, but I do love having sharp objects just as much as I loved collecting dead things, rocks, books, and other shiny trinkets that I find curiously fascinating. It's a wonder I'm not nicknamed after a raven or a raccoon. Most of the things I collect I use for inspiration for my stories... or I used to. I haven't written in years, and I surely haven't touched any of my old stories. Now that I think of it, I haven't collected much in a long while either, but I haven't stopped wandering to clear my head when it needs to be cleared.

Suddenly the marks left on the wall are far from my worries. I take another deep breath and finish the last details of my costume. Lastly, I slip in the pair of fake wolf teeth and take a final look at my reflection. I grin fiercely at the sight of the beast staring back. Its teeth a twisted snarl, eyes wild with a taste for the hunt. I can almost imagine the fur in my reflection bristling with excitement. I growl lowly, feeling quite pleased with my wolf transformation. It may not be one of my best works, but it sure will do nicely. Smirking at that, I turn to the door. Now, to put my brilliance into action.

I flick off the light switch and crack open the door, hearing my sister's long exaggerated exhale, "Finally! You sure took your sweet time-" She flinches from the sound of my claws gradually scraping against the fine wood. I don't bother thinking about the marks the claws leave behind. "Shae, don't you dare-"

I come barreling out, all tooth and claw and dark fluffy fur like a starved beast locked on her target. The deep snarl that leaves my throat sounds well enough to be something worth being startled by. Even to my astonishment, it's nothing compared to how Eva screams. She shrieks so loud it hurt my ears even with the wolf head covering them before she stumbles back, tripping over her two purple fox-slippered feet. She is on the floor in an instant as the sound croaks, ending in a ragged coughing fit. But it was damn well worth it.

Dropping to my knees, I hold my sore throat as I cough alongside her until my eyes are wet with tears. Laughter starts bubbling its way up my throat between the coughing, only to turn hysterical and then back to being painful when Eva starts hitting me with her hands. Her yelling is full of vulgar language I don't bother correcting as she smacks me to no end. Her last few blows feel the worst as her heavy stomping rumbles the floor, something shocking for her small size. Angrily she steps over me only to slam the door repeatedly over my hip and leg until I manage to crawl away from her furious attack. The pain burns hot where the door had hit me, but I can't stop laughing. I catch a glimpse of her heated face under the light with thick brows drawn down over narrowed blue eyes above a scrunched button nose and a tight-lipped scowl. Her dinky hands are balled into fists at her side before one reaches for the knob. This time when she slams the door my leg isn't stuck in between it. I can't stop laughing even through the pain, and it takes longer than I expect to calm down. Eventually, the laughter in me died and I was left feeling this dull pain throughout my body. I don't doubt I'll have bruises later if it hasn't started to swell already. I nearly choke on the bent plastic wolf teeth after rolling onto my back. Making sure to take them out before I seriously gag on them, I try my best to sound sympathetic and ask, "Are you ok in there, little apple blossom?"

"No! You are not allowed to call me that after scaring me half to death!" She shouts excessively, leaving no room for me to respond. "You are forbidden from calling me that now! You are cruel Shae! A cruel, twisted, demented, warped...," a high-pitched growl leaves her soon after when I can't force back the snicker that slips from my lips. Then comes the spiteful use of her tongue in another furious yell, "It's not funny, Shae!"

But it is, and I can't stop the gut-aching laughter that bursts from my throat as another fit overpowers me. I try to force out the words 'I'm sorry' but all that comes out is slurs and hiccups and giggling. When she abruptly falls silent without so much as a clink from the faucet or creek from the floorboards, I manage to settle down and push sarcasm aside. I position myself upright with my back against the door while attempting to reason with her, "Come on Eve, I was just having some fun. You know, trying out the scare. It's Halloween, remember? You're eventually going to get spooked!"

I smile at that last part secretly hoping that she'll give in or at least give me some silly remark about how much she despises Halloween at times. But she doesn't respond.

I gently strike my knuckles against the door, the gauntlet rings making that sharp sound, so she knows I'm still here, "You still alive in there?"

Silence. That's all that answers me. I sigh and draw my hands back to my lap fiddling with the clips and fur there, "Eva, come on. You can't ignore me forever and I know you'll come out eventually."

silence continues to fill the room and the lack of her words pulls at another familiar nerve, one manifested from guilt because I know what I have done and what it can lead to. Usually, she would just continue being angry with me after the initial shock and embarrassment, but it's been far too long since she's ever been this quiet after scaring her. A year at most when nothing seemed to help. I know better than to be scaring her, but she's been in such a good mood lately, I didn't think- god...

That's what I didn't do. I didn't think. Even if she had been in such a good mood as of late, that never meant she was ok. Truly ok. I know I'm not.

Swallowing thickly, I lick my all-too-tight lips before twisting myself around to face the door on my rear with my legs crossed. Not sure where to start or if I'll even be helping by opening my damn mouth, it takes me a moment to gather what I want to say, and even longer to gain the courage to say it.

"...that was cruel of me to do that, wasn't it? You don't have to answer that... I... Eva, I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have done that, and I didn't even think. A part of me was trying to be funny, and scaring you like that wasn't fair, though I'm sure I'm not that good at projecting a scare." I try to grin at that, but the silence that's still clinging to the air is making it impossible to believe it.

There was such a long silence stretching out between us, that I began to fear she would never speak to me again. And then that fear evaporates as soon as it comes into my thoughts as the words leave her at last, "So, I'm easy to scare then? Is that it?"

Did she not hear what I said? ...at least she's talking to me though. That's what I should be thankful for, but instead, I keep focusing on the fact that she only cares about the negative aspects of my apology. How like Eva...

I push down the annoyance in her tone and words and say, "Well, even if you were, why does it matter? You know I wouldn't let anyone else dare scare you or do something crueler. Remember Cas and Ryan? When they made you cry after that little shit prank they did in the woods? They never tried anything like that again after I dealt with them." I point out.

"You nearly broke Ryan's arm." Her tone is strange, but it isn't sympathetic.

"And I'll do it again gladly if they even thought about pulling another one of their stunts. The same goes for Jared and his idiotic friends."

She doesn't say anything for a long moment, so I add, "At least it's just me you'd be dealing with, though I know I tend to overstep with scaring you. I am sorry Eva... truly. But, if you think I'm so scary... then that just means I can scare away just about anything that tries to sleep under your bed at night or steal your cookies," I smile at the end of my words knowing she can probably hear it.

Her response baffles me, "I'm not five anymore, Shae. You got to try harder than that to fool me."

"Stubborn maybe," I mumble, catching again how she doesn't seem to care about the good sides to what I just said. Only the negatives.

"I heard that!"

"Okay! Okay, I'm sorry for scaring you, Eva-"

She cuts me off in a yell, "Stop saying sorry, Shae! If you actually meant it, you wouldn't be scaring me in the first place! I hate it when people scare me, and you of all people should know that! For once, I just want to go trick or treating with dad and go home without you being a stupid jerk..., " I hear her mumble. Moments later, the toilet flushes, and the water is running in the sink. My throat dries the moment her words sink in. I'm worse than a stupid jerk...

"...hey, how about we go out tonight instead?" The right words feel near impossible to grasp all of a sudden," I want to make it up to you and... well, with just us, I'm sure we could collect as much candy together as with Dad. You know he won't be there collecting candy as I would. I'll make you a vow, Eva, not to scare you again for the whole night and every night after that. That includes during the days to come. Sound like a deal?"

Her words are quick, sounding all too flat coming out, "Dad said he would take me this year. He promised to."

The guilt that comes crashing down after hearing those words just about chokes me.  All the words I suddenly need to say fumble in my throat. Somehow I manage to speak, "Listen, Eva..." I clear my throat.

"Dad's trip took longer than expected, and he won't be back until Monday morning." I hear the sharp intake of breath she takes. It sounded a lot like she was holding back a sob. I cringe at the thought, quickly adding, "I'm here though, and we can scout the town from dusk until dawn, from every street with as much candy as we can carry."

"I don't care."

"Eva-"

"It's not about the candy Shae," her voice trembles. "He promised to take me this year." I hear the click of the squeaking knob turning and I shuffle away to lean on the wall against the staircase. The door slowly opens soundlessly, revealing just enough of the same little girl who used to run frantically into my room every night after having one of her nightmares. Nightmares I'm sure we shared but never spoke aloud. Those same baby blue eyes I've always envied fight to hold focus, though seeing them close to bloodshot and glossy now prods at the familiar bitter wound that has not yet healed. I don't think it ever will.

She draws in a shaky breath before uttering beaten words, words that sound far too soft and uneven, "Shae, he promised..." Her lips hold tight as she struggles not to frown, which is a pointless task because her lips tug hard down her face. No eight-year-old could win a battle with their emotions, not even Eva. Every word following that statement comes out so fuzzy, so faint, but I know exactly what her lips are trying to say. She never would break a promise. Without having to say another word, Eva breaks and crawls down to sit with me on the floor. Without having to think twice, I wrap my arms around my sister's feeble figure, embracing her tightly with her face pressing into my throat and my chin on the top of her head. I smooth down soft dark hair while humming faintly, not to any tune in particular at first, but soon I start recognizing the hum. It was a song our mother sang to us whenever one of us was upset. It was an easing tune as it was beautiful, and it always calmed us both.

"You know," I whisper after a while of thinking, "my offer still stands if you want to go with me. Maybe we'll even see Alex along the way," I offer.

"I like Alex," she admits softly and sniffs.

"Of course, you do." That brings the faintest smile out, but it's real and that's all that matters.

"He'd never scare me."

"No, he wouldn't."

I feel the breath she takes and I relax when she doesn't break away. We continue holding one another for a little longer. Another moment passed in silence before I slowly let her go. "If you wanted to," I whisper, "We could watch a movie in the attic after. We have that bed up there and that old tv that takes VHS tapes. I'm sure I can get it to work."

"Aren't those mom's things?" She mumble, sounding a bit puzzled.

"It's ok. We just won't tell dad." I whip a thumb across her puffy cheek, taking out a tear still fresh from her watery eyes. I hold out my hand after hoping she would take it. She does. "I promise you, no scares anymore. We'll stay up as late as we want and eat as much candy as we want. You can even pick the movie too. Deal?"

Eva smiles softly at first then nods, "Deal."

Half expecting a handshake, I'm instead taken off guard when she lets go of my hand only to grip my wrist and yanking me to my feet.

"You said you would help me with my costume," she reminds me when I give her a strange look. I follow her upstairs without so much of a choice, heading to her bedroom I assume as much.

I grin sheepishly, my face instantly flushing, "Yeah, yeah, I remember."