Page 9 of Their Pretty Little Monster

With hurried footsteps that echo softly on the street, I’ve managed to slip out of the house without my mother noticing—a chore that’s becoming alarmingly routine these days.

Wednesdays. Ten p.m. South Street by the cornfield. He’ll have a flashlight in his left hand, not his right. And he only accepts smoked meats.

With Alina’s words always at the top of my mind and the payment for my mom’s medicine in my bag, I hurry toward the farms.

Peering over my shoulder, I catch nothing but the whisper of the wind rustling through the trees. I’ve been doing this for a couple of months now, and still, every noise, every shadow, has me panicking. Skulking through the night never gets easier.

Even dressed in my black cotton pants and shirt, my hair tied up, I feel exposed.

Up ahead, the cornfield looms near, its stalks swaying in the breeze while the moonlight gives the field a ghostly hue. I navigate quickly to South Street, passing darkened homes with no lights, every rustle of leaves, every owl hoot leaving me jumpy.

Finally, I spot him.

Jason, one of our Village Protectors, is standing at our previous meeting location, cloaked in darkness, his face hidden beneath a hooded cape. Despite the couple of times we’ve met like this already, the sight of him concealed and waiting still sends a shiver down my spine.

Breathing faster now, I move toward him, my eyes fixed on the flashlight he holds in his left hand.

“Evening,” I say softly as I approach. “Do you have my medicine?”

“Like always,” he groans, glancing around almost nervously. Has he spotted someone nearby? His reaction has me instantly on higher alert than earlier, ears listening for any sounds. “Let’s do this quickly. I have somewhere to be.”

I nod, grabbing the paper-wrapped package of smoked meat out of my bag.

He shoves a hand into his cloak’s pocket and produces a small parcel swathed in white fabric, then pushes it into my hand, already reaching for the smoked meat.

Except, his parcel feels smaller, lighter than the last order.

“Wait, this is less for the same payment.” I raise my voice slightly, but he shrugs, snatching the meat. But I tighten my grip, refusing to let go.

“Then no exchange,” he growls.

“Why is it less?” I demand, needing to ensure we don’t run out of medicine. The last batch lasted barely a week, and meat isn’t cheap. And by the weight of tonight’s medicine, it may last a couple of days if we’re lucky. Plus, I’ve had to pick and sort through several buckets of berries to pay for this bag.

He’s silent, his grip on the meat tightening. I squeeze mine as well, unwilling to let this slide when it’s about my mother’s health.

“You can’t just give me less. When will you deliver the rest?”

“It’s all I have,” he groans.

I narrow my eyes. “I’ll have to reduce the payment, then.” The fire inside me flares up. I’m not backing down, not now.

He hesitates, and for a moment, I think he might relent. But then he yanks the parcel harder, and I stumble forward, my grip loosening just enough for him to pull it free.

“Hey!” I shout, but he’s already retreating into the shadows, vanishing fast, leaving me with half the amount of medicine I need and anger that burns hotter.

“Jason, you owe me!”

Grinding my teeth, my pulse races, my chest rising and falling faster.

Placing the medicine into my bag, I retreat, anger and fear mingling through me.

His betrayal stings, and the worry for my mother gnaws at me. Tomorrow, I’ll find him in the village, and I’ll make him give me the rest.

Twisting around, I push in the opposite direction to Jason, picking up my speed as every shadow feels like a potential threat. With the moon sliding in behind thick clouds, darkness spreads over the land. Eeriness runs up the back of my legs as I run. My footsteps echo on the dirty path, crunching against the tiny rocks.

I can’t bear to think of getting caught. Of being punished for having illegal medicine brought into the village. The last things I need are additional entries put into the Chalice for breaking the rules, increasing the chances of me getting chosen as Monster’s Bride at the next Choosing Ceremony.

That’s when snapping twigs pierce the silence behind me.

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