Starve a Curse, Feed the Soul

Chapter Fourteen: Concerning

The gawping eyes of the pale woman raced around the almost vacant, spacious, unfinished room. Besides her irregular, rapid respires, the only other sounds she could decipher was the internal fan of the air purifier, and the humming of the space heater with a reading of seventy-six Fahrenheit. Summer felt utterly torn to either remain perfectly silent, or to scream her fucking head off. She promptly decided to go with the former, rather than targeting herself as fresh fodder.

Kicking the fallen sheet away, Summer walked to the center of the storm cellar where the Wendigo had been. Confusion and anxiety began to pervade her mind and heart...

For the past decade, she was always a light sleeper. So how did he become free without stirring her?

The woman stopped in the middle of the basement, and after wiping away dampness from sleep, bowed her head to the floor and... clasped her chest to keep her disconcerted pumping organ from bursting out of her ribcage.

Next to the cleared bucket that previously contained the lasagna, were three, short vestiges of Ben's chains, still affixed to heavy clasps. And right above the broken bits of once, durable, stainless steel binds, were profound abrasions on pastel paint, and a very, lopsided, fluorescent hooded lamp. The probable reason for this escape, was Ben's sustained nutrition had granted him new-found strength to snap the sterling silver-coated links without jeopardizing his mouth. But to Summer's relief, at least, there were no signs of mutilated limbs, in case the regeneration speculation wasn't true.

The upset woman could feel her frown deepening from absolute disappointment. No normal human being would have broken those thick, durable chains by hands alone. And with the basement being under three meters high, only a towering cryptid's antlers could have reached the ceiling while freeing himself.

Summer wanted to punch herself. Hard. Damn it to hell with her rose-tinted glasses.

It's surprising that your fairy tale ending was so ephemeral, huh, Cinderella?

This time, the woman responded to herself with just a relented sigh. For her returned, acerbic conscience had every right to be cynical. She had done the research. The curse of the Wendigo wasn't Lycanthropy, where the victim shifted from human to monster and vice versa. Everything Summer had obtained and read over the years: from media and books, down to rare manuscripts, all concluded that the only way to free a person was to end their suffering... through death.

In other words, once a Wendigo, always a Wendigo.

But yet, deep down, the woman had faithfully hoped and prayed that after the sated spirit left Ben, there'd be no more beast; just her beloved with his assuring icy-blue eyes. Not some gluttonous, angry, red-eyed monster that needed to be recaptured and imprisoned forever!

As Summer nervously debated whether to check behind the washer and dryer, she swung around and craned her head to find the acoustic-proof door wide open, instigating her eyelids to completely disappear. Oh, Christ. What if he broke out of the house and went out into the forest?! To Normandy Village?! To where Robert and Marylou reside?!

Again, how on this cold earth, did she not wake the fuck up?!

Pulling the Taser out of her coat with a new, live cartridge, Summer strode up the creaky, stilted stairwell. She wanted to run, but also wanted to not give herself away from any rushed stomping. The rubber-trimmed soles needed to stay under her feet. The woman couldn't risk any tripping or stumbling...

...or anymore stumbling.

With the turned on stun-gun held in front of her person, Summer paused at the open entrance, tensely licking very parched lips.