Regan Wolfrom - Catholic Guilt and the Joy of Hating Men

“Don’t do this,” the kid said. “Don’t toy with her.”

“Toy with me?” I asked.

“He’s not going to let you go. Obviously.”

“Shut your yap, Conan.”

“No, Dad. Let’s just kill her and get it over with.”

“I’m willing to be toyed with a little longer,” I said. “I’ve got time.”

The kid pulled out the duct tape and ripped off another strip.

“Please don’t,” I said. “I won’t scream.”

He taped over the back of my neck. He did it again with a second piece.

My gills were covered.

“Now you’ll get the chance to drown,” Quinn said.

Suddenly the thought of drowning terrified me, more than anything else. It wasn’t something I’d even thought about before. “Wolves don’t drown their prey,” I said. “Can’t you just do that heart-ripping thing?”

“There’s only one way to kill an ocean goddess. She must die in the water. Otherwise she might find another body to use.”

“Why does it matter if she does? You can just kill that one.”

“Don’t be stupid. It’s the goddess who must die before she starts to kill.”

“Come on,” I said. “It’s not like I’m going to kill anyone.” I was lying, of course. If my wrists and ankles hadn’t been taped I certainly would have given it my best try. “Please… I’m not going to kill anyone.”

“We’d like to keep it that way,” Quinn said. He turned to his son. “Stuff her mouth and push her in.”

“I want to test something out,” the kid said.

He didn’t bother with the hand towel. He simply gave me a shove.

The weights pulled me down as I hit the water. There was slack in the line tied to my ankles and I kept sinking. I sank right to the bottom.

I opened my eyes and looked out through the plexiglass of the tank. There was nothing to see, no one around, no light in the dark night.

Unless Quinn and Conan changed their mind, I was going to drown and my goddess with me.

Breathe.

I didn’t understand.

Just breathe.

I opened my mouth and sucked in the water. As clean as I thought my tank was, the water still tasted like feet.

As the water rushed down my throat I felt my lungs take a breath.

I exhaled through my mouth. And then I took another breath.

After a few minutes I felt my legs being pulled up towards the surface.

They were going to want me to be dead.

I felt the pulling stop, and I started to drift back down to the bottom. I twisted my head and looked up, and I saw someone else in the tank with me.

I was pretty sure it was Quinn. And the red mist spilling out from his head was something I was pretty sure about, too.

Quinn wasn’t moving.

The pulling started again, and I tried not to move as I was slowly lifted towards the surface. If Quinn was dead, that didn’t tell me anything about his son, whether or not he was the one pulling me out.

Maybe it was the police, or my uncle, or Horny Rich hoping that someone had finally adapted lobster traps for human women. But it was probably Conan, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to keep him from killing me in some other way.

I was pulled out on the wooden platform, legs first. I felt the weights being removed from my wrists.

“Are you alright?” It was the kid.

I nodded. “Did you just kill your father?”

“I didn’t want him to kill you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“You just tried to drown me. That would’ve hurt.”

“No… I didn’t.” He sounded genuinely upset. “I kept count. Six minutes. You were underwater in the bathtub for at least ten.”

“You taped over my gills, you idiot.”

“I took a chance. Looks like I made a good bet.”

I saw my baseball bat, lying on the ground near the ladder. There was blood, of course; I’d expected there to be blood. What surprised me was that the bat was there at all.

“How did you manage to sneak that bat up here?”

“No sneaking required. That was Dad’s Plan B for you.”

“No heart getting ripped out of my chest?”

“He was probably being dramatic. He usually uses a rock or a heavy branch.”

“Not very wolf-like,” I said.

“Don’t worry… he was still going to bite you and all that.”

“Why the hell would he want to do that?”

“That’s what the spirit wants. That’s what my spirit wants me to do to you right now. He wants to taste your flesh.”

I knew it was just a matter of time before his spirit won out and made me his next nibble; this was the same kid who couldn’t peep on a bathing lady without pulling down his pants.

I wanted to pull back from him, towards the ladder, but my wrists and ankles were still bound. I waited for his next poor attempt at a choke-out.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I’m not going to hurt you, Vanessa.”

“Then untie me.”

“I can’t. I… I can’t take that chance. Not yet.”

“Not yet?”

He nodded. “Not until I know I can trust you.”

“Why the hell would I ever trust you?” I asked. I wondered if I should have thought things out a little before saying that.

“I love you, Vanessa.”

“That’s good to know.”

He knelt down and picked up the towel and the roll of duct tape.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Until I can trust you.”

I heard my goddess whispering to me.

Taste his flesh.

I could feel the urge within me.

“Wait,” I said. “What do we want to do about your father? We can’t just leave him here.”

“I’ll put him under the trailer. In the same spot he meant for you.”

“He’s pretty waterlogged. You may need some help.”

“Not yet,” he said. “Not until I can trust you.”

He stepped closer with the towel and the tape.

I threw myself towards him with my mouth open to his neck. I crunched down as hard as I could into his skin, tasting the metal in his blood.

And then I felt her rise to the surface.

I opened my eyes to find the bones and blood of the younger spirit wolf lying on the platform of my dive tank. I kicked them into the water as though that would make them disappear.

I knew I’d have to fish them out.

I started the fire in the woods, only a few dozen yards from The Wolfman’s trailer. It had been a dry summer, so it was no surprise to anyone that a careless cigarette could cause such damage.

Once the flames had reached the trailer’s propane tank it was all over for The Wolfman; apparently he’d been in the trailer with his son when the explosion happened.

No one else was hurt, thank god.

My uncle took the insurance and shut down the park; he knew that there wasn’t any money left in the place. We all crossed The Bridge and went home.

I don’t dive for pearls anymore. There are some in the lake, from the freshwater mussels that you’ll find almost everywhere in L’Anse Bay, but that’s not what I’m meant to do.

Most nights you’ll find me walking the woods that stretch from the tip of Keweenaw Peninsula to somewhere in Wisconsin. I carry my bat and I listen to the whispers, and I wait for the dark spirits.

One day I’ll find another one, and I’ll know to swing the bat and take my bite.

It’s a part of me now.