Page 72 of The Girl and the Cobra

I try to piece it together. “So, what? I was your test to see if people like us can change? If you could fix me, you could fix yourself or some shit?”

My question earns me a chuckle from Wolf. “Not quite, but close.” He stands and wanders over to the nearest window. The sun peeks through the clouds outside, and the angle it shines down allows some of the rays to shine through the glass and onto Wolf.

For some strange reason, the sun doesn’t make him look any less ominous.

“What is it, then?” I ask.

“I always had a goal for this house,” he says. “Rehabilitation for the morally sick, twisted, and corrupt. Seek to fix those who cannot fix themselves. I understand better than most how minds like yours work, and so I am uniquely suited for the task.” Wolf turns away from the window, those green eyes of his meeting my stare as he holds his hands behind his back. “You are its first triumph.”

“What does this mean?”

“It means I have some thinking to do. If I were you, I would leave me to it. Mabel will come to me when she’s ready, and I will tell her that I sent Robert Hayes home with a warning that if he ever tries to come here again, he might not be so lucky to escape with his life a second time. She will have other questions for me, and I will do my best to answer them.” Wolf cocks his head at me. “She is a sweet girl. A part of me thought, perhaps, she’d be too sweet for you. For what it’s worth, even though you may not believe me, I am glad it worked out.”

I highly doubt Wolf is the type of person to ever begladabout anything, but whatever. At least he admitted this was all a fucking test—and it wasn’t even for me. It was so he could see that he could fix someone as fucked up as me.

I stand and turn to leave; we are done with this conversation. My hand is on the doorknob when Wolf calls my name: “And Tristan?”

With my back to him, with just the way he says my name, I hear it. The hidden psychopath simmering beneath the surface, waiting patiently to be released. I’m measured in glancing over my shoulder at him.

“If you raise a hand to me again, I’ll cut it off.” Spoken so simply, as if he’s just remarking on the weather and not telling me he’ll cut off body parts should I hit him again.

Please. His threats don’t strike fear inside me.

I give him a grin and say, “Don’t put Mabel in danger again, and I won’t have to.”

I leave that office in a much better mood than I entered it in, and I think it’s due to the fact that I finally got a glimpse of the real Wolf. From the beginning, I knew we were alike, and for the longest time I resented him for it. I’m still pretty pissed he put Mabel’s life on the line, but she survived and isn’t worse for wear; the only reason a good mood for me is even possible.

Mabel is in the kitchen, waiting on a bagel in the toaster. She wears baggy pajamas, the clothes hanging off her thin frame making it look like she’s being swallowed by the fabric. Her yellow hair is messy and un-brushed, pulled up in an uneven bun. The very second she sees me, she smiles and says, “Do you want a bagel?”

As messy and unkempt as she looks… she’s never been more beautiful to me.

I reach her and wrap my arms around her. “If by a bagel you mean a kiss, then yes.” I bend my tall frame down and press my mouth upon hers, tasting those sweet lips again this morning. It’s a quota of kisses I could never fill.

When the kiss is done, I add, “But I will also take a real bagel.” The added comment makes her giggle, and my insides heat up at the sound.

This is what life is supposed to be. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Chapter Thirty-Two – Mabel

It’s been a full month since that scary night in the woods. Honestly, so much has changed since then. I moved back home. I started going on hikes with Penny on the weekends. Whenever my dad doesn’t need his car, I visit Tristan at Dr. Wolf’s house.

I still see Dr. Wolf once a week, but it’s not as urgently needed as it was in the past. Every so often I have nightmares or get a flashback, but I don’t feel like I’m drowning anymore. Now that I stared down death and refused to run, I feel stronger, like I can handle it.

Penny is bent over beside me, reorganizing the display with the pastries we have left for the day, when she asks, “We still on for tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Nine, right?”

She straightens and shoots me a toothy grin. “Right. Your, uh, dad gonna be home?”

Her question makes me roll my eyes, and she laughs. She takes any and every opportunity to pick me up at my house now. Once she even invited herself over for dinner. She and her boyfriend broke up when she found out he’d been DM-ing girls behind her back. Her crush on my dad is ridiculous.

Besides, after the sudden way we lost Mom, I don’t think he’ll be ready to date for a long time.

All I say to her is, “Maybe, maybe not.”

Penny hums as she closes the display door. She knows my mom died less than a year ago, and that she and my dad were married since they were young. Penny is shooting for the stars with her crush, and she knows it—but she doesn’t seem to care too much.

I check the clock. Ten minutes till I’m out of there. Funny thing is, those last ten minutes always seem to stretch on forever.

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