The Mating Rules

Pushing it open, I step inside to find a small sitting room with an old fashioned box tv and a couple of uncomfortable looking chairs. Moving through the space, I walk into the next room to discover the old man’s bedroom, with a bathroom attached. I head toward the bathroom, turn on the tap and wash as much of the b***d off as I can, using the small hand towel beside the sink to dry myself off. Once my hands, face and arms are clean, I head back out toward his wardrobe and pull open the door. Inside on the right are a row of tailored trousers, shirts and jumpers. On the left are some women’s dresses and cardigans.

I grab one of the cardigans then kneel down to open the drawer underneath and find some women’s tops. Both are a bit big but I don’t have the luxury of being picky right now.

Balling up the clothes, I hold them away from my body so as not to soil them and head back out into the hallway, allowing myself one brief look toward the man who saved me and paid for the good deed with his life before turning toward the stairs and heading upwards.

I walk back into my room, placing the clean clothes on the bed and grabbing my towel again before heading back outside and walking down the hallway to the bathroom.

As I pass each door, I try the handles, each one opens freely to reveal rooms just like mine, all are empty, looks like I was the only guest despite what the old man said when I arrived.

At the very end, there is a door opposite the bathroom and when I try the handle, it won’t budge. Frowning, I knock loudly on the wooden structure.

‘Hello?’ I call out, ‘is anyone staying in here?’ Silence is my only reply and I glance back down the corridor, nibbling on my l*p as I contemplate what to do.

If someone was in there, they would surely have been woken up by the fights? Nodding to myself, I step back and raise my foot, kicking the wood by the lock over and over until with a c***k, the door splinters and swings open.

Stepping inside, I find myself in a teenagers room, the whole place is covered in a fine sheen of dust as though it’s stuck in another time. I hold my breath as I walk into the abandoned space, feeling like I’m trespassing somehow.

The moonlight filters in through the window, lighting up the pastel pink walls that are covered in posters and a shelf that holds ice skating trophies.

The air has the musty smell of an attic and it’s obvious that this room has been closed off for many years.

I run my finger along the edge of the vanity that holds small makeup vials, brushes and faded photos of a tall dark haired girl who is posing with a variety of friends, each one, her face is lit up with a smile.

I take in her long brown hair, deep brown eyes and slim figure before glancing at myself in the cobwebbed mirror, realising that there is a certain similarity between us.

‘Are you his daughter?’ I whisper to one of the photos, my voice sounding strange in the silence. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get him killed, he was a good man who didn’t deserve to get wrapped up in my mess.’

The girl in the photo smiles back up at me, laughter in her eyes, her arm wrapped tightly around the waist of a tall black haired teenage boy who has his arm draped over her shoulders.

Straightening up, I turn around, taking in the room in it’s entirety, the bright pink and purple comforter that is perfectly positioned on the bed. A floppy eared rabbit sitting on the pillow, as though it’s waiting for it’s owner to come back. The more I look, the more I realise that the whole room is a time capsule, trapped in a moment when it’s owner walked out the door and didn’t come back.

I swallow down a lump in my throat, thinking of the man downstairs, who tried to protect me even though he didn’t even know me and the realisation hits. He lost his daughter, at an age not much younger than me by the looks of it. I don’t know how she died, but the ache in my heart tells me that I’m right and that this man and his wife most likely grieved her until the day they died. I’m not sure either of them ever got over losing her, the room is completely untouched as though the girl in the photo will walk in the door again at any minute.

I move toward the tall white wardrobe that stands behind the door and pull it open, staring at the array of dresses, jumpers and jeans that are hung neatly inside.

I pull out a pair of jeans and check the size, one size bigger than I am but close enough. I continue to rummage, finding a belt that will hold up the oversized clothes and also some clean socks as mine are stained red. I hold the items tightly in my hand as I glance back at the photos, guilt gnawing at me. ‘I wouldn’t normally steal someone else’s clothes’ I mutter under my breath, ‘but I’m desperate, I’m really sorry, tell your dad that I’m sorry too.’ I swallow thickly, forcing myself not to cry, ‘and tell him thank you for trying to help me, I’ll always be grateful for what he did.’

Nodding in respect to the photos, I walk out of the door, jeans in my hand and pull it shut behind me.

Moving across the hall, I push open the door, placing the jeans, belt and socks, down on the sink and reaching over the tub to turn on the shower.

Stripping again, I step under the water and scrub my skin almost raw, washing away every trace of b***d from my skin. I claw at my hair, shampooing twice as I just don’t feel clean after the first wash, then conditioner.

Once I’m done, I step out, shutting off the water and drying myself as quickly as I can, not liking how vulnerable I feel standing here naked.

I drag my underwear back on, along with the jeans and socks, and leaving my soiled clothes on the floor, grab the belt, and hurry back to my room to pull on the top and cardigan.

Once I’ve looped the belt through the jeans, I slide on my sneakers and pick up my bag, heading out of the room and back down the stairs.

My stomach rolls as I inch around the three bodies, and I keep my eyes averted from my host as I know, if I look at him, I’ll break down.

Pushing open the door opposite the owner’s private quarters, I find myself in a small dining room and off to the side is a swinging door that leads me to a kitchen.

I ransack the cupboards and pantry, shoving every free space with food before opening the refrigerator and pulling out one of the bottles of water I find there. I push that one into my bag, and grab a second one that I c***k open and drain half the contents of.

Gulping down the cold liquid, my eyes roam over the different foods in there and, spying some precooked pastries, I take two and devour them in seconds.

Shutting the door again, I drop the bottle in the bin and head out of the room, making my way toward the front door and unbolting it.

Peeking out of the gap as I open it, I take a deep breath, calming myself, before opening it fully and stepping out into the darkness.

I hurry to step outside, closing the door behind me, consciously keeping the images of what’s inside pushed from my mind. I don’t have time to think about what I did or how my actions ended that poor man’s life. I need to get out of here.

I start walking briskly, keeping my head down to try and not draw attention to myself, I need to get out of this town. I have no choice but to believe that those men were sent by Avrilak which means he knows I’m here. No one is safe when they are near me, his henchmen proved that with how they murdered the human owner without a second thought. They didn’t care that he was innocent, I doubt they knew or cared whether the bed and breakfast had other guests. If there had been other people staying, I have no doubt that they would have met the same end as my host.

Keeping to the shadows, I grip the strap of my bag tightly, my senses on high alert as I move swiftly toward what I hope is the edge of town.

The rustling of leaves has me stiffening and I glance over my shoulder quickly, scouring the empty street behind me. A prickling starts at the back of my neck, and I get the feeling I’m being watched. Facing forward, I hurry my steps, peering over my shoulder every so often but I can’t see anyone.

Skarla sniffs the air suspiciously but the wind is blowing behind us and all we can scent is the distant trees and faint smell of the humans who were walking around the streets a few hours ago.

The scuffing of shoes against the road surface causes my heart to speed up, hammering against my chest as I bite down my my tongue to stop myself from whimpering in fear.

Ahead of me a figure looms out of the darkness only feet from where I am, and a scream catches in my throat as I skid to a halt, backing away from whoever it is.

Two arms wrap around my body, pinning my arms to my sides as the stench of unwashed skin permeates my nose.

The figure in front of me, walks forward slowly, his clawed face coming into sharp relief as the light from a lamp post shines down on him. I stare up at him in horror, taking in the mangled flesh that was once his right cheek and eye.

Seeing my gaze, he rubs a hand over the scarred skin whilst smirking at me, ‘not all of us get born into a world that accepts them wolf’ he murmurs darkly.

‘What do you want? Let go of me’ I growl, shaking my body to try and dislodge the arms holding me still.

The stranger behind me is strong though and I realise quickly that I’m going to have to fight my way out. In my mind, Skarla is starting to get angry, not liking a strange man touching her. Only her mates are allowed to touch her like this and a rumble of displeasure bubbles up my throat from her as my claws start to slide out of my fingers.

‘Oh we’ll have none of that now’ the man in front of me smiles, pulling his hand out of his pocket that holds a syringe and stepping closer, jamming it into my neck and pressing down the plunger.

I scream loudly as fire burns through me, wolfsbane! In my mind Skarla whimpers, my claws retracting as she starts to fade from my consciousness. No! I need her!

‘Skarla!’ I call out mentally, ‘don’t leave me!’

The only reply I get is a whine of pain before she fades completely, cut off from me by the poison in my system.

‘Now then’ the dirty man in front of me says jovially as he pockets the syringe, ‘how about we get going? Eh? The boss is waiting for you.’

I try to struggle but an arm moves from my waist, and a hand wraps around my neck, squeezing until I can’t breathe.

As my vision blurs, darkness clouding the edges, the last thing I hear is, ‘not too long Hector, we need her alive.’