Self-Preservation

SELF-PRESERVATION


I can’t do this anymore, she thought. I hate him too much.

Rachel sighed as she grabbed the bowl of lettuce from the counter and moved to the sink. She turned the cold water on and put the bowl beneath the flow, raising her eyes to gaze out of the window at the stark, snow-covered landscape. The sun was low as evening loomed and cast a bright orange backdrop against the dark silhouettes of the trees.

This spontaneous trip to the cabin was a farce and she’d known it within the first hour of being here. She still wasn’t sure why she’d agreed to come and now looked to the approaching three days with a mixed sense of dread and resignation. Isolated on a snowy mountain while her soon-to-be-ex-husband played the bogus role of loving spouse and did everything in his power to talk her out of her decisions. Jesus, what was she doing here? She turned the water off, drained the bowl then sat it aside. What difference did it make, she wondered as she grabbed a knife from the butcher block, whether they were alone back in their apartment in New York or here on the side of a mountain in Jerry’s boss’s cabin? She was going to leave him and there was nothing he could say that would change her mind. So, why then, had she allowed herself to be manipulated? Why was it that, when he’d told her they were coming here for the weekend, bouquet of flowers in hand and that silly, endearing grin on his face, she’d buckled?

Because you’re weak! her mind taunted. Rachel’s eyes were bright with frustration as she brought the knife down into the soft, red flesh of a tomato. It was true. She was weak where Jerry was concerned. Above and beyond the fact that for seven years she’d suffered physical abuse, verbal abuse and numerous infidelities by him, she still loved him. She hated herself for that blatant, pathetic truth but she’d finally come to the realization that, love him or not, she just couldn’t live with him any longer.

A loud crash from outside startled her and she snapped her eyes toward the window with a gasp. Jerry stood on the porch, bent over, stacking the pile of firewood he’d just dropped. His dark hair and beard were frosted with snow and puffs of white danced in front of his face with each breath he exhaled. Rachel watched as he finished stacking the wood then headed toward the back of the house to get another load. His face was down, eyes lowered to the ground, but that didn’t stop her from seeing the pinched look in his expression. The barely-contained anger that was always there, always burning just below the surface. How many times had he sworn over the last seven years that he would get control of it? Rachel shook her head. She had to be strong. If her and their marriage were so important, he’d have never gone with the other women. Never hit her that first time, so many years ago. Or kicked her. Never allowed such degrading, esteem-killing names like stupid, worthless, and pathetic to pass his lips when talking to her.

Rachel looked down at the red, pulpy mess she’d made on the counter. Her vision blurred with tears as she picked out the salvageable pieces of the tomato and tossed them into the bowl of lettuce. How had she allowed herself to so completely lose control of her life? To become so miserable? She wasn’t sure what exactly had prompted her ‘awakening’ – whether it was the newest affair she’d found out about two weeks ago or the beating that had ensued following her accusing him, but one of those factors had been a catalyst – maybe both. She felt like some perverted version of Sleeping Beauty, instead of waking up to Prince Charming’s kiss, she’d found herself firmly in the grip of the Big Bad Wolf.

She grabbed the wooden long-handled spoon and began to stir the spaghetti sauce. On one hand, the emotional imprisonment she found herself in made her more determined than ever to find a way to extricate herself. She would find a way out. She would make a new life for herself. But, the scared, insecure side of her screamed that maybe Jerry was right. Did she really want to leave her husband? Was she nuts?? Abandon her life for a bunch of unknown possibilities? So what if he smacked her around sometimes? So what if he called her ugly names? He didn’t really mean those things.

Rachel shook her head and laid the spoon down. She had to get control. If Jerry came in and saw her like this; emotional, crying, filled with doubts and confusion, he’d hone in on it like a vulture to roadkill. He’d exploit her weakness and use it against her. Convince her she was doing the wrong thing. She bent to the cabinet below the sink to retrieve the unopened roll of paper towels. As her hand reached for them, her eyes focused on the small brown box next to them.

She felt her mouth tug into an ironic smile. Now, that would certainly be an easy answer. She picked up the box of rat poison and stared at it. But, then the question became, who did she use it on?

Herself or him? Him or herself? Or both?

She watched in a trance, as the scenario played out in vivid detail in front of her eyes. Dropping spoonful after spoonful into the sauce. Ladling him out a generous portion over the angel hair pasta and placing it in front of him with a smile. A huge, endearing smile. Then, running to the bathroom claiming a sudden upset stomach, locking the door and clamping both hands over her mouth to stifle the insane giggles as her wonderful, loving husband devoured the strychnine-laced food. Coming out of the bathroom finally to find him sprawled out on the floor, or maybe slumped over the table. And then what would she do? Have her own plate of spaghetti? Or start to live, finally?

A rumble on the porch jerked Rachel out of her fantasy and she gasped with horror as she realized she was standing over the pot of sauce, open box of rat poison in her hand. Dear god, she hadn’t actually done it, had she? HAD SHE? She turned quickly to the window – the rumble had been Jerry dropping another load of firewood, and a squeak of terror pushed through her lips as she saw him standing there, staring in the window at her. Rachel’s legs turned to water and she put one hand on the counter to steady herself, the other moving the box swiftly behind her back. Her face was frozen in an expression of shock; her eyes wide, lips slightly parted, as she looked back at him. Had he seen her? She swallowed hard past the large knot of fear lodged in her throat and turned away from him. She stared hard at nothing on the counter, the canisters, toaster and coffee pot blurring together in a collage of colored shapes as she tried to control the trembling that wanted to take over her body. Her heart was beating so fast and loud she thought it was going to erupt from her chest any minute. A second later she heard the muffled clomping of his boots as he moved away from the window and headed back to the woodshed.

Rachel reached over slowly and turned the stove off, then bolted out of the kitchen, managing to get inside the bathroom and get the door closed a fraction of a second before her legs gave out, spilling her to the cold tile floor, and she succumbed to the uncontrollable tears.

“Oh god…oh no,” she whispered raggedly when she saw the box of rat poison still clutched in her hand. She forced her fingers to open and the box fell to the floor, a cloud of white puffing from the opening. Tears raced down her cheeks and Rachel wondered if she was losing her mind.


#


She wasn’t sure how long she’d stayed in the bathroom, but when she finally walked out, the sun had dropped below the horizon and darkness shrouded the cabin. She turned the switch on the table lamp and warm, yellow light filled the living room. Though her hands still held a trace of the trembling, for the most part, Rachel was once again in control of herself. The box of poison was safely stowed behind some towels in the bathroom closet and all traces that had spilled out when she’d dropped it were now gone. She considered starting a fire in the fireplace then decided to wait a bit and turned to go back into the kitchen.

Rachel heard Jerry coming up the steps before she walked into the kitchen and she knew there was no way she was going to be able to sit through dinner with him. Already the beginnings of a migraine were snaking up the back of her head. What she needed was sleep. Isolation. Oblivion.

As she walked through the arched entranceway, the back door flew open, crashing hard against the wall. Rachel cried out in surprise, then ran across the room as Jerry staggered in carrying a large, covered object in his arms.

“Oh my god – what…”

“I found him at the edge of the woods,” Jerry panted and dropped to his knees, laying the man down in the middle of the kitchen floor. Rachel quickly shut the door behind him. “Go get me some blankets!” Jerry yelled. “I’ll get his clothes off.”

Rachel raced out of the kitchen to the bedroom. The man’s horribly frozen face danced in her mind as she grabbed the blanket off the bed. A glaze of frost and ice had covered every inch of his face. Even his eyes, open and staring vacantly, had been covered with ice. Chills raced up her spine as she ran back to the kitchen. There was no way the man was alive. No way at all.

“Hurry up, godammit!” Jerry snarled a second before she sprinted through the door.

“Here,” She tossed the blanket at him, and stood paralyzed, watching as Jerry pulled the man’s large, wool coat off.

“Is he…dead?”

There was no awareness in the man as Jerry began to work on getting his clothes off. He stopped a moment to shrug out of his own coat, then pulled the hunting knife off his belt and began cutting. As he yanked the frozen shirt away, Rachel saw that the man’s flesh was riddled with patches of gray that looked slippery and mushy, despite the obvious frozen condition of his body. The sight made her stomach lurch and she pushed her fist in her mouth to keep herself from either throwing up or screaming.

“No! Not yet, anyway.” Jerry pulled the man up and put the blanket over his bare shoulders, wrapping it tight around his chest and throat, then laid him back down and started cutting his pants. “Get over here and fucking help me!” he growled at Rachel over his shoulder.

Rachel moved slow, as if walking through water. She didn’t want to help. Didn’t want to touch this man with his oozing, blotchy flesh and vacant stare. She dropped to her knees at his feet and began to undo his bootlaces.

“Shouldn’t we call for help? I don’t see him breathing, Jerry. Are you sure he’s alive?”

“Yes he’s alive! And we’ll call for help after we stabilize him. Hurry up, dammit. We’ve got to get him warmed up or he is going to die.” Jerry pulled the last remnants of the man's pants away and looked around. “You only brought one blanket? Jesus Christ, you fucking idiot!” He stood up and rushed out of the kitchen.

Rachel fumbled with the shoestrings, trying to see past the tears blurring her vision, her fingers turning bitter cold from the snow and ice caked on the man’s shoes. Against her will, her eyes crawled up his length and her stomach heaved again at the sight of him. His legs were a bruised shade of blue and purple, mingled with the gray splotchiness that had also been on his chest. Those slimy patches looked to her like if she touched one, her finger might sink deep inside. Like sticking her finger into a bowl of oatmeal. She jerked her eyes away from the man’s bare legs and tugged hard on the one boot she finally managed to untie but it wouldn’t come off.

“Dammit…come on,” she urged between clenched teeth as she twisted the man’s foot back and forth.

A low, ragged growl came from outside and Rachel froze, gasping, her head snapping up. The sound had come from just beyond the back door. She stared at the closed door, her eyes creased with uncertainty as she listened to the strange sound. It was a deep rumble and almost bubbly, as if the owner’s larynx was filled with fluid. A dark sound. Animal…but yet, not. What sort of animal could make –

The man sat up. Rachel screamed in shock, wrenching her body backward, away from his sudden movement and scuttling quickly across the kitchen floor on her hands and knees. She stared across the room at him with disbelief as he jerked his head back and forth, looking wildly around. The blanket fell away from his shoulders but he neither noticed or acknowledged it.

“Jerry!” Rachel called out loudly.

The man snapped his head around, focusing on Rachel.

“…af-ter me…” his voice was nothing more than a ragged whisper. His lips were purple and stiff, unable to wrap themselves around the words he was trying to push out, making them sound garbled and nearly indistinguishable. “…hear it…”

“Jerry!!!” Rachel screamed again, pushing her body hard against the cabinets. Her heart slammed in her chest as she watched him. He looked crazy. His eyes seemed to blaze with madness and she wondered if hypothermia caused brain damage or made people go insane. Or maybe he had been insane before he stumbled upon whatever misfortune had caused him to almost freeze to death. Maybe he had some sort of disease – whatever those patches were, and it was affecting his brain. What if that stuff was contagious? Where the hell was Jerry? The growling sound came again. Closer. Definitely closer to the back door now.

The man whimpered at the sound, his head turning toward the door.

“N-n-no…d-don’t…get me!” he croaked, putting his hands against the sides of his head. “…eat me…w-w-wants to…oh god…” The man tried to move but his limbs were still cold and his movement was sluggish and uncontrollable and after a second, he dropped back down onto his back. Rachel began to slowly rise off the floor. She had to get out of here and find Jerry. He would know how to deal with this. Would know if the cold had made this man go crazy. And what kind of animal was lurking outside the door.

“What are you screaming about –“ Jerry raced into the room carrying more blankets, then stopped short as he saw the man. He looked over at Rachel still half-squatting on the floor, wide-eyed in confused disbelief, then back to the man.

“Holy shit, bud!” He ran to the man’s side and dropped to his knees. He placed the blankets on top of the man’s legs. “I can’t believe you’re awake!”

The man tried to grab Jerry’s hands.

“Don’t let him touch you, Jerry!” Rachel shrieked. “He’s got something on him!”

“Shut up, Rachel. It’s just from the hypothermia.”

“…out th-there…wants m-m-me…don’t…let it...” he slurred, trying to pull Jerry closer to him.

“What are you--?” Jerry shook his head, not understanding.

“He thinks something’s after him.” Rachel stood up slowly and moved behind her husband. She looked down at the man on the floor. “And there was growling or something outside the back door. Something was – is -- out there.”

“Y-y-yes,” the man nodded. “…af-ter…m-m-me!”

Jerry looked up at Rachel in confusion then back to the man. “What is it? Did you get attacked by wolves or something?”

The man let go of Jerry’s hands and began fumbling with the blanket on his legs. He was trembling now, violent shakes jerking his body uncontrollably. He shook his head, then looked up at Jerry.

“…n-no…not like that…” His eyes shifted, found Rachel and stayed. “N-n-not…animal. Crazy…alien. Monster. Hard…t-to see…but there…” He brushed one hand absently across his chest, over the largest patch and Rachel gagged as she saw the flesh move and smear over his body.

Another growl pierced the night and the man jerked his head toward the door.

“…knows…” he whimpered. “W-wants…me…too…”

“Jesus,” Jerry whispered, staring at the back door and trying to understand the sound coming from the other side.

“What is it, Jerry?” Rachel squeaked in terror and stumbled backwards. Her backside hit the counter and she gasped in surprise. He looked over at her, but didn’t say a word, just shook his head. He had no answer. Rachel turned and grabbed the cordless phone from its cradle but her hands were shaking so badly that it jumped out of her grip, bouncing across the floor to land beneath the kitchen table. She moved to retrieve it, then stopped as that horrifying growl began again.

“What about a gun?” she asked, her voice high, on the edge of hysteria. “Are there any guns here? This is a hunting cabin, right?”

“Yeah, but Tom doesn’t leave any firearms here.”

“Guns…” the man said, shaking his head, panting heavily. “we…tried…k-k-kill it…couldn’t…”

“We?” Jerry frowned. “Who’s ‘we’? How many of you are there? Where are they now?”

The man swallowed hard. “S-s-seven. All…dead. All…but…me.” he whispered.

“What is it?”

The man’s lips moved, trying to speak but no sound came out, then his eyes rolled up into his head and unconsciousness swept him away.

“Oh god, Jerry – did he die?” Rachel cried, biting on her knuckles to keep from screaming. “Is he dead?”

Jerry leaned over and picked up the man’s hand. He felt around on his wrist a moment, then shook his head. “No, just unconscious again.”

The thing growled again, louder this time, more urgent. Hurried. Demanding. Then a thunderous ‘thump’ hit the back door. Rachel shrieked in terror. “Oh my god, what are we going to do?!”

Jerry stood up and looked down at the man. His face was pale and sweat beaded on his forehead. He turned around to Rachel with a strange look on his face. “We’ve got to get him out of here.”

“What…” Rachel stammered, shaking her head, “What are you saying?”

“That…thing…whatever it is out there, it doesn’t want us. It wants him. Not us.”

“But…” Rachel looked at her husband in horror. “How do you know that?” She couldn’t believe he what he was suggesting. How could he even consider the possibility? It would be murder, pure and simple, and her mind rebelled viciously against the thought. But, didn’t you almost murder your husband not more than an hour ago? A voice taunted. You still aren’t completely ‘positive’ that you didn’t drop some of that rat poison into the sauce.

“Look!” Jerry snarled, turning suddenly and stalking across the room until he stood in front of Rachel. He pointed his index finger in her face. “I don’t know. All I know is that, this problem...that thing...wasn’t here before I brought this guy here. I’m not getting killed or…eaten… because of this stranger. If what he said is right, it’s already killed six people. Maybe if we give it what it wants, we live.”

“No!” she cried out, shaking her head hard in denial. “We can’t do that, Jerry! We can’t just throw him to…whatever that creature is out there. It would be murder! And what makes you think it’ll leave us alone, once it kills…or eats…this man? Why won’t it just come after us next?”

“I don’t know!” Jerry grabbed a handful of Rachel’s hair and yanked her face close to his, ignoring her whimper of pain. “I don’t know if it’ll do a damned bit of good or not, but I do know it’s the only shot we’ve got right now. Maybe those guys killed its baby or something. Destroyed its home. I don’t fucking know, Rachel. I just know that I’m willing to do whatever I need to in order to stay alive and if that means tossing some guy I don’t know to…whatever’s out there, then goddammit, I’m going to do it! Its called self-preservation, baby.” He let go of Rachel with a shove and moved back to stand over the man.

Rachel stared at him in disbelief.

“You cold, heartless bastard,” she breathed through her tears. “Why did you even bother to save him?”

“Fuck you, Rachel. I thought I could save him. I just didn’t realize that all this,” Jerry gestured at the back door, “went along with it.” He bent down and with a grunt and picked the man up in his arms. “Open the back door for me. Now.”

Rachel shook her head and stood still.

Jerry looked at her a moment, his face a thundercloud of fury. “GET THE FUCKING DOOR NOW!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. Rachel jumped in surprise and scampered toward the back door. Before she had made it halfway across the kitchen, the door blew open in a deafening explosion of glass and wood as it ripped away from the doorframe, slamming against the wall, then banging to the floor. Rachel screamed and fell to her knees, her breath stopped cold in her throat. All of the strength left her body in a sudden rush as she beheld the creature.

In her periphery, she saw Jerry drop the man and fall down next to him, but she couldn’t seem to pull her gaze away from the thing. It wavered in front of the door and she suddenly recalled the man’s words about it being hard to see. She understood that concept completely now. She could see it, yet she could see through it. It was invisible, but it was there. It had a shape of some sort, but that shape seemed to be constantly moving, shifting, changing, so that nothing about it was concrete or substantial.

It had eyes, though. Oh, dear god, yes it had eyes and her vision seemed to narrow, tunneling, until there was only her and those caverns of the deepest, evilest black she could ever imagine. Windows into hell, itself. Her fingers dug into the sides of her face, gripping and pulling at the flesh as she watched the thing flutter at the doorway. Why didn’t it just come inside and kill them all? Get it over with! Anything was better than having to look at this creature for another second!

Something changed, then. The world – her vision, or her mind, seemed to tilt. Waver and tremble, blurring together in dizzying confusion. Her stomach rolled with a vertigo-induced nausea and she fell backwards. She stared up at the ceiling, then other things danced in front of her eyes. Different things. Blood. Dear god, the BLOOD! She was looking up at the ceiling, but she was seeing the cabin from a different angle. Looking straight into the rooms and somehow seeing them all at the same time. Rooms covered in blood that ran in fast-moving crimson streams down the walls, soaking into the wooden floors, puddling in swirling lakes and rivers. It glistened from the saturated couch cushions, covered the lamp shades, bubbled up out of the sink’s drain, dripped from the ceiling, drenched the bed, and she could see all these things at once, somehow. And then she was overwhelmed by the odor. It shrouded her, wrapping around her in a haze of stink that took her breath away. A smell that she couldn’t exactly define but associated with decay and death and insanity and rotted meat. It was all too much, being forced somehow to see this. She wanted so much to close her eyes, to block out the horrors in front of her, to hold her breath until she passed out or died, but it was like she’d suddenly become paralyzed. Her eyelids were frozen open and the blood and visions just kept appearing in front of her. This place – the forest, the land, maybe even the whole mountain, was hunting ground for this creature. She wasn’t sure how she understood that, but she knew it was right. It had hunted here for years. So very many years. Preying on human flesh and controlling the human mind. That’s what this thing did. Wrapped its invisible tentacles deep into a person’s brain, searching for the darkest evil in each person to bring forward. What in god’s name was the thing? Except it wasn’t anything of god or light or anything good. Not the creature or the place. The creature had tainted this place with its evil. Had made it its very own. Had lived here and murdered here and ate here, inundating everything with blood and evil until it was like a rip in the flesh of the world. An open sore with pus and rot and stinking infection blistering inside of it and she was in there too, now, breathing that rot, tasting it in the back of her mouth, soaking it into her skin, tainting her mind until she would drown in the foulness that was this place.

The creature screeched. It was an unholy sound, nothing at all like the bubbly growling from earlier. This was pure malevolence and hunger and it stabbed into Rachel’s mind like slivers of glass. She gasped and sat up, looking around and holding her forehead as if to keep it from shattering. The cabin was as it had been. No blood ran down the walls or dripped from the ceiling or pooled on the floor now, but the monster still stood in the entranceway. She saw Jerry. His hands were clasped against the sides of his head as he stared into the monster and he was moaning loudly. Snow blew in, through the creature, dusting the floor and Jerry in a sheen of whiteness.

It couldn’t come inside. Something about the heat. The temperature. She knew this suddenly, same as she had known that this place was the infected hunting grounds for the monster, and she also understood that the creature had gotten inside of her head. Making her understand these things. And then it made her understand one other thing.

It wanted Jerry. It wanted the man, and it also wanted Jerry and it wanted Rachel to deliver them.

“Oh…god no,” she cried out, revolting against the idea. She wouldn’t do it. Couldn’t. There was no way in hell she was going to give her husband or the man to that monster. If it couldn’t come in and get them, then they were safe, right? If only she could get to the phone. Call for help.

She felt a tugging in her mind. A sensation that she didn’t understand, couldn’t describe, yet knew it as the will of the creature trying to bend her spirit.

I should do it, she thought. It’s the right thing to do. The only way to survive. The only way to live! Just do it!

Rachel shook her head, horrified at her thoughts. What was she thinking?

But…wasn’t it the exact same thing Jerry had just been saying? Self-preservation, baby. And there wasn’t a shred of doubt in her mind that he wouldn’t hesitate a single second, if he were in her position. None. The creature was actually providing her with an easy answer to all of her problems. No rat poison necessary. No more fighting with him. No more abuse. Just peace, finally.

She stood up slowly, shaking so hard she could barely control her movements, keeping her eyes glued to the floor. She felt the heated, scorching, vile gaze of the thing as it watched her, willing her to do it. Sacrifice them, for her own self. It was right.

The man was already dead. She saw that as soon as she stood over him. She felt a momentary pang of regret – he’d come very close to surviving, but then she was also glad because it would alleviate some of the guilt. She bent down and with a grunt of determination that actually came out as a scream, pulled the man into a sitting position. His body was hard and stiff. She moved behind him and put her shoulder against his back, pushing with all her strength. The man tumbled forward, his face crashing on the snow-covered brick walkway with a thud and then the creature was on him. Invisible extremities snaked forward, yanking him out. A wet slurping sound filled the night and she couldn’t help but watch in amazement as a steaming gray fluid poured forth from the creature, covering the man. As it hit his flesh, it made a sizzling noise and a burnt smell filled the air, making Rachel gag. She turned away from the sight, but not before she saw the man’s flesh begin to liquefy and the monster suck him into itself. She was given another brief glimpse of understanding and knew that that substance had been the source of those patches on the man’s body.

She turned to Jerry. His hands were still gripped in his hair, his eyes vacant and Rachel wondered a moment just what hell he was seeing. It didn’t matter though, she decided as she pushed him forward. Soon enough, he wouldn’t just be seeing it anymore. He’d be firmly in its grip for all eternity. She shoved hard with another scream of determination and Jerry fell forward, out of the doorway, into the night and the arms of the demon.

The wet sound came to her again, followed by a short, muffled scream. Rachel closed her eyes and fell to the floor. What had she done? Dear god, what had she done? She saw the cordless phone lying beneath the kitchen table. Help. She crawled across the floor, desperate to get to it before the thing changed its mind and decided it wanted her, too. Then, she felt it. Not really an emptiness, but more of a receding, like thin wires being slowly extracted from her mind. She turned her head toward the door. It was leaving. Really leaving. Leaving her alone and slipping back into the tainted darkness of its forest.

She croaked a little laugh as she moved quickly toward the phone. She couldn’t believe the thing was actually going to let her go. Going to let her live.

Jerry would have been proud of her.

Self-preservation, baby.


#


Rachel stood on her balcony and gazed out at the sultry green waters of the Gulf of Mexico. The hot breeze blew over her skin and she relished the warmth. It made her feel safe. Since her experience five months before, even a slightly chilled wind was apt to make her queasy and throw her into a fit of uncontrollable hysteria.

The doctors at Whispering Willow’s Restorative and Rehabilitation Center called it Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. She called it fear. Plain and simple. But, they’d never known the truth, either. The blood and bits of flesh littering the steps had led authorities to believe Jerry had been mauled by a wild animal. Rachel hadn’t argued. Better to keep it to herself about snow demons and tainted places and an evilness beyond all conception. Otherwise, she’d have just found herself in another prison. A different sort of imprisonment. And Rachel was finally ready to live.

She’d spent her time at the Center trying to understand what had happened to her. Not to everyone on a whole, but to her. Why exactly had she pushed her husband out of the door? The easy answer, of course, was that it was the monster’s will. But, that wasn’t completely true. Somewhere deep inside of herself, she’d wanted to murder him long before the monster had shown up. And if not, then why didn’t she feel one single shred of remorse for her actions?

Rachel turned away from the view and went back into her apartment. It was small, but it was tidy and it was hers. As she moved down the hallway, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and stopped. She caressed her swollen belly and smiled.

In the end, the creature hadn’t left at all. Only moments after she’d felt the receding, it had come back, ready to devour her as it had the others. And the temperature in the room hadn’t kept it out any longer, since the door was off the hinges and she’d never started the fire. She recalled those last moments, as it drew close, shifting and wavering, staring at her with those evil black eyes. And her lost. It had reached out with one of its tentacles, grazing her stomach, snaking around her and then there had been a flicker in those black eyes. A second of something, some recognition, some awareness and then it had simply pulled the tentacle back and left. Shivered out into the night and been gone, for good that time. She hadn’t understood why at the time, but she thought she did now. The thing, whatever it was, thrived on evil. It was the embodiment of darkness and taint. Maybe it tasted the sins of man on their flesh. Who knew? But, the baby growing inside of her was sinless. Completely pure and innocent. And that goodness was like a poison to the creature.

She toyed with the small line across her belly where the creature had touched her. The flesh was soft there. Not liquified like the man’s had been, but soft.

She walked into the bedroom and laid down on top of the comforter. She often wondered, if she’d known about the pregnancy back then, would she still have pushed Jerry out? Would she still have fed him to the monster? She wasn’t positive, but she thought the answer might have been yes. Because, after all, he was the one who taught her everything she knew about self-preservation.

---END---

BEYOND DAMNATION: SEDUCTIONS IN MADNESS