I didn’t look near my bloody bed; I couldn’t stand the thoughts of wondering how long I had been asleep lying in all of that blood. My hands shook and my body trembled with shaky gasps. I couldn’t rationally explain how the werewolf had gotten into my house before a cool breeze came in through my second story window. That was the clear indicator to how the werewolf had gotten in.
Simon and I had never thought to boobytrap the windows or the large willow tree next to the house. With the swaying branches, it really wouldn’t have been hard for the wolf to allow itself inside. I didn’t know what to say or do. All I could think of was how horrible it was that I wasn’t calling the police even though I should. I needed to call someone while at the same time I needed to not tell anyone about what was currently lying in my bed. The glittery purple of my phone case caught my attention. There was only one person I could think of calling at a time like this, and we hadn’t spoken since the day I admitted I didn’t like the idea of anything happening to him.
“What are they doing here?” I asked in a sneer. No part of me could help that my voice was saturated with pure loathing. An hour earlier, I called Matt against my better judgment. When I worked for banquet set up, I had been given the phone numbers of the managers and supervisors in all of the conference center. Little did I know that I would one day need to use them.
When I had called Matt, he answered on the first ring. When he asked if I was okay, I didn’t get to say anything before I burst into ugly tears. After that, Matt gently coaxed my location out of me before he promised me he was on his way.
I wasn’t expecting he would bring the members of what I still mentally dubbed the boy band with him. There was Bobby, Nico, Jamie, Chaz, and behind them, the one I loathed. Cale. “May we come in?” asked Matt politely as if I hadn’t spoken. He didn’t cross the threshold.
I was hesitant to allow them inside. “Do I need to give you my permission before you can enter?”
Jamie and Chaz snickered.
“No, stupid. We’re not vampires,” scoffed Cale as he pushed around Matt and allowed himself inside. He could have shoulder checked me, but he made sure to step around me instead.
My thoughts flicked to the horrible wondering if vampires were as real as werewolves. “Are those real too?” I sounded worried. No one said anything.
Not one of them confirmed or denied the existence of vampires, and I didn’t push for an answer. I was already in over my head with the reality that monstrous werewolves existed and were now inside my house. I could only handle one myth at a time.
The others allowed themselves inside. Two of the boys immediately took off up the stairs. The others looked around, as if waiting for a command instead of taking action on doing anything. Matt took a good look at me from head to toe. While he winced, it was Jamie who spoke. “You look awful.”
He wasn’t kidding. Before they had arrived, I stripped off my pajamas that were completely saturated in blood. All I had put on was a large, bushy robe. I hadn’t taken a shower yet. Still, I knew I must look awful. Not only for the dark circles under my green eyes but as well as the drying blood caked on me.
“Was it the blood in my hair that gave it away?” My sarcastic words were a near whisper. I had lost my voice earlier while screaming.
“Yeah, dude,” answered Jamie before nodding. He stuffed some of his inky black hair back under his ball cap. “It’s all on your face and might even be in your ears, too.” He wasn’t being rude, just his usual oblivious self.
Before I could snap an angry retort his direction, Cale and Nico came bolting down the stairs.
Cale looked smug.
“It’s pretty gnarly up there,” said Nico. “It’s like Texas Chainsaw Massacre bad.”
“I don’t doubt it,” replied Matt quietly. “I can smell the blood from here.”
I didn’t relate this to his being a werewolf. There was now enough blood in my room that even I could smell the distinct coppery stench. It was making me woozy.
“How long do we have before your siblings return?” asked Matt while not looking at me.
“Four hours for Simon and s-six for Miranda,” I answered promptly. My throat was raw, sore from all of my screaming and crying. My eyes ached, desperate to close for rest.
“Four hours,” announced Matt to the rest of the boys. “I want all blood removed as well as any items with even a speck of blood on it. We’ll have to move fast.”
Cale laughed. “We’re gonna have to burn down the entire room for the most part.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” said Matt coolly as Chaz entered the house. The burliest of the boy band carried five gallons of bleach in each hand. Behind him, Bobby entered the house with a box of rubber gloves as well as matches and gasoline. My eyes were probably bulging out of my head, for Matt gave a gentle shake of his head at me. “We’re not seriously going to burn your house down. But we will have to burn the bloody clothes.”
As Matt started giving commands on who was supposed to do what, Cale watched me with a smirk. His haunting eyes looked at me as a predator would. Both of us ignored Matt’s commands as we silently watched one other. It was me who broke the silence.
“I thought it was going to be one of my pretty little coworkers,” I remarked quietly.
Cale smiled broadly. He gave a roll of his shoulders. “I guess I was wrong.”
He held no care that someone was dead. Gentle goosebumps tickled the back of my neck. That was what probably was most repulsive. None of them held any real care. That was the part that scared me more than anything; no one seemed to hold any care that there was someone’s decapitated head lying upstairs in my bedroom.
I didn’t know what to do or how to react. I was going to go upstairs and help before Matt’s hand on my shoulder stopped me. “No,” he said quietly. “You don’t need to go up there.”
We didn’t say anything else. He also didn’t remove his hand from my robed shoulder, and I didn’t mind his holding it. I quietly watched the floor while he quietly watched the staircase. All that we could hear were the boys loudly complaining from the second floor. While one complained how big the mess was, another boy started issuing profanity-ridden names toward another. From the sound of it, someone threw an object at the head of another.
“I said clean, not fight,” issued Matt lazily. He didn’t have to speak loudly and yet the boys heard him just fine.
If it were any other situation, his words might have been comical. He sounded similar to an annoyed elder brother scolding small children. For a while, all that was heard was the grumbling complaints of the boy band. If one stopped complaining, another swiftly took his place to gripe. They sounded like whiny teenagers. After what seemed like a small eternity passing, someone finally came down the staircase.
My stomach clenched uncomfortably, and I resisted vomiting when Chaz came down the stairs with a volley-ball sized object inside of a black garbage bag. “Too soon for ‘heads up?’” he joked, wiggling the black garbage bag in one hand.
Matt’s hand gently tightened on my shoulder. He ignored the comment. “Status report.”
“It’s not so bad,” yawned Chaz. “We’ll burn the rug, clothes, and blankets. After that, it’ll just be getting rid of the mattress.” He started walking toward the front door but glanced at Matt and me.