Twisted (Editing)

Chapter 12

Jonah was sick again so I went home early. Black vans were parked across from the house. I got a bad feeling. The house door was wide open. I hesitated. What if someone was in there? What if we'd been robbed. I looked down the street. Should I call the police? "Hello!" I shouted from the street. "If you're in there, know that I am armed." I heard no sound. A cold sweat trickled down my back. I stepped inside.

The inside of the house was a mess. Fear raced through me stepping through the mess. Portraits had fallen in a struggle and the glass had smashed. The coffee table had been flipped like someone had tripped over it. There's was a hole in the drywall, about head shaped. The dining room chairs had been smashed to pieces. The fighting had started here and moved into the kitchen and up the stairs. "God." I held my hand over my mouth, choking back a cry.

My parents. They must've come home on their lunch break. I dropped my back and stepped over broken glass into the kitchen. Whoever these fuckers were, they came to the wrong home and they would pay if they were still here. I held up the butcher knife. This would perfect. And hey, if I killed him, it would be self-defense.

I would be lying if I said I wasn't scared. I could hear my own heartbeat. Thump, thump, thump. It was all to quiet. The only sound I could hear was my own breath. "Mom?" I called out, waiting for her to respond.

"Imani. Please, help us." I jumped at the sound of her voice and ran the rest of the way up the stairs. Bursting into the room, I saw her, tied up next to my dad on the floor. He had a busted lip and she looked like she had been scratched on the face by some sort of dog or cat.

"Who did this to you?"

"I'm so sorry Imani," she said, eyes down.

"It's not your fault. We have to call the police." I bent down to untie them, starting with their hands. "But first we have to get you to the hospital and get those scratches checked out. You could have rabies."

"She said she's sorry because it is her fault." I raised my head and was met with a man all dressed in black.

I tightened my grip on my knife. "Who the hell are you?"

"Ian Jacobi of the Midnight Moon pack."

"So this is an act of gang violence?"

"I said pack girl, not a gang. We're werewolves."

A confused laugh left my lips. Werewolves? There was no such thing. This man was crazed obviously, especially if he was willing to beat and tie up my parents over it. "I called the police," I bluffed. "They're going to come get you."

He stepped closer. "That's a funny joke. Don't you know that the police are werewolves too? So are the nurses and the firefighters. Our pack is five thousand strong and we take up several of the towns in this area. Evansville was only the start."

"Don't come any closer." I held out the knife, getting ready to stab him if he came any closer. I'd never been in a fight, much less stabbed someone.

He launched himself at me. I screamed and brought the knife down, piercing into muscled flesh. I felt the pinprick of a needle in my arm. I drive the knife deeper, squeezing my eyes shut as the sticky, warm blood slicks my hands. I was crying then and driving that knife into the muscle with all my might. My attacker lets go and fell backward.

"Fucking Juvenis, getting me into this situation."

Juvenis? Hadn't I heard that before? He clutched his bleeding thigh. At the same time, my vision became to blur. My throat tightened with panic. I'd been poisoned.

"What did you do to me?"

"Tranquilizer and a wolfsbane antidote." he smiled despite the pain he was in. "Reinforcement is going to be here within the next half hour."

My knees buckled. The last thing I remember seeing is my father finish untying himself and bashing my attacker's head into the ground.