Regan Wolfrom - Catholic Guilt and the Joy of Hating Men

“You’re easy prey,” he said as he stood up from the table. “A delicious snack before bed.”

He had to spill my blood. My grandmother had known the secret; she’d learned it from Shinju herself. That had to be the truth.

The sooner Quinn cut me, the sooner I’d find out.

“Show me how tough you are,” I said. I climbed out of the dinette and walked over to him.

He backed away a little. I wasn’t sure what he was planning.

“You’re wasting your time,” he said. “And mine.”

“Whatever.”

I stepped forward and punched him in the mouth. I could tell that it came as a surprise.

He pushed me on my shoulders, shoving me backwards.

“You want this to hurt, don’t you?” he said.

“I do. So hurt me, jackass.”

He slapped me hard with his gloved hand, from cheek to cheek. I fell backwards, banging against the tabletop.

I knew there’d be blood.

I felt it running from my nose, and from a cut below my left eye.

But my goddess didn’t come.

“Sit down,” he said.

I sat. I was running out of options. Actually, I was completely tapped out. He’d kill me. There was no avenging ocean spirit inside of me. Just some gills.

And once I was dead, he’d kill the crazy little perv. And maybe my uncle, and the rest of my family.

“What if I help you?” I asked.

“I don’t need your help. I’m not going to have any trouble ripping your heart from your beautiful chest.”

I swallowed hard. It felt like I was about to watch some other idiot girl give everything up. “I’ll pack my bags and I’ll leave a note for my uncle,” I said. “I fell in love with a young boy and I had to leave before I did something I’d regret. Would that work? Would you leave everyone else alone? My family… the little pervy kid?”

“That kid killed those girls.”

“Even if you’re right… why would you give a shit? You’re going to kill me, remember?”

He gave me another smile. “Yeah… I am going to kill you.”

“You’ll be able to stay here. Keep your job. Find another exotic-looking carnival girl to go all Tom Cruise over.”

“Write the letter,” he said.

“Let me send my family away first. Once they’re gone you can have me.”

“That’s a stupid plan, Vanessa. There’s no way you can tell your family without giving me up. You’re going to say some person is about to kill them but you don’t know who?”

I had to come up with a plan.

“I can get them to leave. Just let me try.”

“It won’t work. You’ll just bring your uncle here looking for you.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Here’s how this is going to work. I’m going to kill you either way. So you can write the letter and trust me, or you can not write the letter and know that the boy and your uncle will both die a horrible death. Oh, and then I’ll kill your auntie, too. And yes… your cousins… and that stray dog that you always give your scraps to. I’ll kill that little dog just for you, Vanessa.” He chuckled a little. “Or, you know… you could write the goddamn letter.”

I started to cry.

And then I wrote the letter.

I packed a couple suitcases while Quinn watched; I came so close to convincing myself that I really was going on a trip, to somewhere that didn’t involve a shallow grave under The Wolfman’s trailer.

Once everything was ready I tried to feel relieved. I had to believe that I was keeping my family alive.

I heard a knock on the door. I wondered if it was even possible that someone had come to save me.

“Ask who it is,” Quinn said in a whisper.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s Conan,” someone answered.

I didn’t know any Conans.

Quinn smiled and walked over to the door. And then he unlocked it.

The pervy kid stepped inside the camper.

“You need to go,” I said. “Please… get out of here.”

“I’m good,” the kid said. “I want to see this.”

“She’s all packed,” Quinn said.

The kid grinned, his fangs and his pair of long black gloves shining in the orange light of the camper. “Sounds good, Dad. I brought the tape.”

They’d wrapped my wrists behind my back and taped my ankles together, lying me down on the floor. They’d stuffed a hand towel in my mouth and wrapped three or four layers of duct tape right around my head.

They worked together like a team, and once they were done they took off their gloves and looked me over like I was a prize chicken.

It still seemed odd that they’d be related. I’d never thought of The Wolfman having a son, and even if I’d pictured his kid I would have imagined a tough kid from Brooklyn who was at least three inches taller and could grow a decent moustache.

“This is how it’s done,” Quinn said to his boy. “If you take your time and do it right, everything will work out.”

“I know,” the kid said. “You’ve told me this like a million times before.”

“But you don’t listen, Conan. You just run around scratching at girls in the woods. You don’t even finish the job.”

“I didn’t want those girls to die. I didn’t even mean to hurt them.”

“Well you did kill them. I couldn’t let them run off to the police and tell them about you. Some weird kid grasping at titties in the woods… this isn’t the life I wanted for you.”

“I know… I’m sorry, Dad.”

“It’s a start. Now let’s get it done.”

The kid nodded as he pulled off another long strip of tape. He wrapped it around my head again, but instead of covering my mouth one more time, he brought it right over my nose. And then he stuck his fingers in my nostrils, sealing them up completely.

“Do another one,” Quinn said.

So the kid did.

I waited for a moment, wondering what would happen. I couldn’t draw any air in through my nose or my mouth. And I wasn’t in the water. My ocean goddess and my gills couldn’t breathe on land.

I started to struggle, rubbing my face against the linoleum, trying to catch the tape somehow.

“She’s suffocating,” the kid said.

“I know,” Quinn said. “Looks good.”

“No… she can’t die like this.”

“I know.”

That was the moment I passed out.

I woke up in the water, upside down. I could feel the tug of weights on my wrists, along something pulling me from above. It took me a few seconds to realize that they were suspending me by a line in my own dive tank. Like a stuffed-mouthed bass they’d reeled in and wanted to keep fresh.

With the weights against my wrists, I knew that once they cut the line I’d be on my way to the bottom.

But I still had my goddess within me; I was breathing through her. The blood hadn’t made her fight, but she hadn’t left me, either.

Quinn and his son knew what I was. They were toying with me. They’d wanted to see it first-hand.

So they left me there, for at least ten minutes, before they pulled me back up.

“You’re amazing,” the kid said. With his heavy black gloves on again, he unwrapped the duct tape that covered my mouth.

“You won’t scream,” Quinn said. “You know better.”

I nodded.

The kid carefully pulled the towel from my mouth. I wondered why he was so worried about being gentle all of a sudden.

“What if I told you that we’d be willing to let you go?” Quinn asked.

I didn’t want to answer. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

“Do you want to live, Vanessa?” Quinn asked.

“I do,” I said. “Please.”