Page 18 of Ready Or Not

Manson: Awfully emotional. Did something upset you?

I throw my phone down on my workbench. I know better than to respond to his needling. The attention is what he wants. Craves. And it pisses him off more when he doesn’t get it.

Instead, I pace.

When I saw the animals, I stopped being interested in Rachel. People who hurt animals for personal gain are the worst of the worst scum to me. I’m careful about every animal product I consume. I hunt, but I use every bit of the animal. So it’s not the fact that he hasRachel, but the fact that he thinks he can take what was mine. Like he’s been doing ever since I met him when we were teens.

Fuck! I grab my butcher knife and hurl it across the room. It sticks into the wall and quivers there.

I’m gonna kill him, and I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.

9

Identity - Grandson

16 years old

“Fucker!” I hiss as I accidentally drop the dead wasp. Pup whines beside me, and I scoop the carcass off my bedroom floor and drop it into my spell jar.

Pup dances anxiously, and I ruffle the top of his head. “You worry too much.” The dog just drops his head on my leg and rests it there.

I use the term dog loosely. I’m still not sure this isn’t some sort of coyote mix. He started coming to the back door for the past few months. At first, Pup was an annoyance, but he became obsessed with me, following me everywhere, and eventually, I couldn’t say no to those adoring yellow-brown eyes. So, I snuck him inside occasionally. What started as occasionally became all the time. Manson hated it, so my loyalty to Pup only grew.

I throw some rusted barbed wire and the goofer dust I stole my mom’s credit card to buy into my jar. Then, I reach to grabthe paper with one name on it. I only remember one, but I feel like there’s more, which bothers me.

Pup whimpers under me.

“It’s okay, boy.” I rub his head again and drop the card into my jar. Dumping rubbing alcohol in, I light it all on fire. I watch the flame lap at the man’s name and say, “I hope you suffer.”

Pup licks my hand. I glance down at him, and he buries his long snout under my hand.

“Riley!” There’s a harsh knock at my door, then the door opens.

Jesus. That’s mom, and she’s already in a bad mood. I turn to the door, bored. Mom steps inside and then sucks in a horrified gasp.

“Fire!”

“Yeah. I made it.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Mom rushes over, then stops, searching. Probably just realized she can’t put it out with her hands. I can’t help but smirk at her frantic energy. Pup gives a low growl.

“Do something, Riley!” Mom gasps.

I push back in my desk chair. “It’s contained.” In fact, the fire is already starting to go out, having burned up the few things that were flammable in my spell jar. I’m not entirely convinced that witchy things are real, but I also can’t disprove they aren’t. So I do them, fuck the consequences.

“Riley.” Mom whirls on me and snaps her hand across my face. Pain lances across my skin, and then there’s a growl and a flash of movement. Pup leaps past me, biting onto my mom’s arm.

Crying out, my mom shoves back against my dog. I scramble up to see her aiming a blow at him.

I lunge, bowling into Mom and shoving her backward, and we all stumble back into my bed. I spring back, yanking Pupaway to check him for injuries. Fuck. No one has ever stood up for me like that before.

“Nasty mut.” Mom gasps for breath, using the bed to steady herself. “Fucking hell, he bit me!”

Pup is still growling at her, all the hair on the back of his neck raised. Mom stands there trembling. I see it a second before she moves. She’s going for Pup.

The pure rage that flashes through my system overwhelms every other sense. I scream, launching at my mother and pummeling my fists into every part of her body that I can.

“Fuck you!” I scream, hitting and scratching at her. “You fucking coward!”

---