Cheating and Werewolves

It is around 1 a.m., and once again, I'm having trouble sleeping.

I turn over, barely conscious—but no less irritated.

Jessie, my boyfriend of five years, is lying beside me, and as usual, I can't tell if he is asleep or awake.

As if to answer my question, he gets up a few minutes later, so careful that I hardly notice when he leaves the bed.

This isn't the first time he has done this, and I keep my eyes closed, thinking he has to be cheating on me.

Jessie then grabs his clothes—a pair of worn jeans and a white tank top—and takes them into the living room of our apartment.

This eases my thoughts a little. If he is seeing other women, he clearly isn't concerned with his appearance.

After he dresses, he walks out of the apartment, cautious not to slam the door behind him.

I sit alone in the dark, frustrated more now than I was from the lack of sleep.

I'm not usually a jealous person, at least I don't consider myself to be, but whatever he is up to, I know it can't be good.

Putting on my clothes, I tie my hair back and head out the door, waiting just long enough so he won't notice me.

Our apartment is on the top floor, and I make my way down the stairs to the parking lot. Jessie must be walking fast because I don't see him. Looking ahead, I see our car still parked in its space. Wherever he is going, he is going on foot.

Thinking he couldn't have gone far, I head across the street to the small convenience store, hoping to see him close by, or at the very least find him there with a bad craving for junk food—Jessie did eat a lot.

To my disappointment, he isn't anywhere near the store, and out of exasperation, I impulsively grab a Snickers off the shelf.

Unwrapping the wrapper, I take a bite—ready to count my losses and head back to the apartment.

"Are you going to pay for that?" asks a clerk. He is sitting behind the front counter, and by the tone of his voice, I can tell he is having a bad night.

I apologize, then grabbing the last bit of money from my pocket, I quickly pay the man and head out of the store.

I'm about to cross the street towards home when I hear a high-pitched scream echoing from somewhere near the back alleys.

The sound is characteristically female, and the hair on my arms stands up.

At first, I ignore it, believing it to be loud teenagers, something not uncommon in L.A.—but when it happens again, I know it isn't kids playing pranks. Cursing myself for having left my phone back at the apartment, I run back towards the store.

The cashier is already on the phone when I arrive, and I think maybe he has heard the screams as well. I then see him laughing and quickly realize that isn't the case. I wave my arms to get his attention, and he dismisses me, still angered from our last interaction.

Fearing that by the time he hangs up it would be too late; I once again leave the store.

Another scream then tears through the alleyway, and I dart in its direction.

As I get closer, it doesn't take long before I realize this isn't the brightest of my decisions. I'm alone, without a phone, and with nothing to defend myself. That is when I hear something that isn't a scream, but something low and very familiar.

My stomach flips.

Turning into the alleyway, I see Jessie. He looks winded, panting heavily as if he can't breathe the air around him fast enough. Every muscle in his body is rippling, twitching as if he is in pain. My eyes take time to adjust, finding him naked and bloody as well. His soft blue eyes, the ones I have fallen in love with countless times, stare at his hands in disgust.

Looking down, I see the reason why. At his feet lies a woman, blonde, beautiful, and with her throat torn open.

I hold my breath, hoping the sound of my pounding heart won't give me away.

My mind races. Could this person with whom I've spent my life actually be capable of this? And worse, how would he react if he saw me? It seems impossible, yet there is no denying what's in front of me.

Jessie gets on his knees and holds the girl lightly in his hands. To my horror, she is still alive. Leaning close, Jessie whispers something in her ear. His voice is barely audible, but I can read his lips.

The woman's eyes grow as wide as a doll, and then I hear the sound of her neck snapping. Jessie lets her body fall to the ground, and I gasp. Though the noise I make is small, it seems to reverberate through the alleyway.

Jessie turns in my direction, and I cup my hands over my mouth to mask my breathing.

As he approaches, I try to make myself as small as possible, kneeling back against a dumpster. I close my eyes and listen carefully to the familiar sound of Jessie's footsteps. They are soft and rhythmic, and it's the first time I notice how animal-like they actually are.

Suddenly, the sound stops. I feel him close and refuse to open my eyes. "I thought I smelled you," his voice whispers. Jessie grabs my hand and lifts me to my feet.

I say nothing, and finally will my eyes to open. Jessie's eyes meet mine, greeting me with nothing but blue. Drowning, I almost forget everything. Confused and near tears, I lean into him. It's funny how years of being with someone can alter your perception of safety.

"I saw you kill her," I say, my voice low, no louder than a whisper.

"I had to. I had no choice," he replies.

His answer courses through me, destroying any remnants of decency I thought I had for him.

I pull myself away from his hold.

"What do you mean you had no choice?" I demand.

Jessie grins, as though it were some inside joke.

"There's no way you'd ever understand, and no way I could ever explain the truth to you," he says.

I step back, unable to believe what I am hearing. Jessie and I had known each other since we were kids. There was nothing I didn't think he could tell me.

"Jessie, you're naked, and I just watched you snap a girl's neck like it was nothing," I say.

Once again, Jessie smiles and touches my hair. He then eyes me, almost dangerously, and I start to feel cold. My heart quickens as he begins to circle around me. Without saying a word, he backs me against the side of a building and holds my hands above my head.

"I'm going to let you in on a little secret, and when I do, you are not to run," he says.

I nod, shaken.

Jessie releases my arms and steps back to view me fully.

"What if I told you that what happened to her was an accident? That I caught sight of her running and lost control. What if it wasn't my fault? That by the time I realized what I was doing, it was too late. I had tasted her blood. I knew she would have died during..."

Jessie pauses, seemingly frightened to continue.

"During what?" I ask, hoping to keep him talking. He takes a deep breath and glances toward me.

"Do you remember the night of my sixteenth birthday when I told you that I needed to leave home?"

For a moment, I hesitate, caught off guard by his question. When I remain silent, his eyes fill with desperation.

"I remember," I finally respond. "You looked as bad then as you did tonight with that girl. I begged you to stay, and we fought. That's when you lied and told me you wouldn't leave. You only waited long enough for me to fall asleep. My parents were in the next room, and they didn't even know you had been there. Jessie, what does this have to do with the girl?" I ask.

Jessie places a hand on the back of his neck and looks down before meeting my gaze again.

"That night was the first time it happened. I don't know if you remember, but there was a full moon. I left work early because I started feeling sick. Halfway home, I had to pull over my truck. It felt like I had swallowed glass. Then I started coughing up blood. I didn't know what was happening to me. The next thing I knew, I was naked and covered in blood about half a mile from my truck. I put on some spare work clothes I had in the backseat and drove home. The whole drive, I couldn't stop thinking. I snuck into my house and showered before my dad could see me. I knew if he saw the blood, he'd have questions I couldn't answer. Whatever had happened, I knew I couldn't stay there. I climbed out my bedroom window, and that's when I came to see you. Nicole, you know those stories about men turning into wolves? Let's just say they're true," he says.

It took me a moment to process his words, unsure if I had understood him correctly. The earnest look on his face told me that I had, and that he genuinely believed what he was saying.

At this point, I thought he had completely lost it.

Jessie must have sensed this, because his eyes were now pleading for me to say something, anything to break the silence.

"You mean like werewolves?" I ask, questioning my own sanity.

Jessie nods, his expression still fraught with worry.

"Yes, and in case you're wondering, I wasn't bitten," he says.

"Jessie, this is crazy. In fact, it's beyond crazy," I say.

"Think about it, Nicole. I eat like crazy, and by the end of every two weeks, I go pretty much insane. I act this way because I'm afraid to let you near me. Two weeks is a long time to be putting off something you know should have been done days earlier. I know you’ve noticed this; you've looked at me questioning it,” he says.

The reality of his words hits me hard, and my stomach grows sick.

I begin backing myself away from him, my mind refusing to believe the connection.

Seeing my panic, Jessie reaches out to touch me. I pull back, feeling dizzy.

"Nicole, don't do this," he says, clearly shattered.

"Stay away from me."

My voice is cold.

The next thing I remember, I'm running. I don't even look back to see if he is following me. I come to a stop and find myself standing in front of a group of buildings.

Catching my breath, I lean against the side of a wall.

My stomach is nauseous, and I throw up.

The buildings around me appear abandoned and look like old storage units. Between each one, streetlamps hum loudly above.

That is when I hear the sound of clanking from the metal roofs above me.

Staring up, I am met with amber eyes and teeth.