The Werewolf Bond

Betrayal

The video brought the pain of my cheek stinging from Ralph’s slap back.

At the same time, the bitter taste of bile that had become usual every time I threw up lingered in my mouth. The video replayed in my mind, each frame a fresh wound, and his deleting it was proof that it was sent to me by mistake. Anyways, I had seen it all.

There was my husband, my Ralph, with my best friend from childhood, Lily.

The betrayal was a double-edged sword that sliced through the threads of trust I’d clung to with regards to them. My cancer had already stolen so much from me—my strength, my hair, my future—I was going to die soon. But this? This was a theft of my soul.

I dragged myself to my feet, shakily gripping the sink for support before looking in the mirror and remembering how Ralph had forced me before one only hours before and said the most hurtful things I had ever heard. There, my reflection stared back at me, gaunt and hollow, a ghost of the woman I’d been. My hair was gone and I was bald. My eyes had sunken in my body. My bones showed all over.

I heard his voice say the words again:

“I can’t wait for the day you are lowered into the grave.”

Each syllable rang in my ears, pronouncing a death knell for our marriage.

Still I wasn’t dead yet. Not tonight. And I probably still had a few months to go. All the same, I felt my anger, raw and unfamiliar, surging through me and taking the place of despair. They were off having fun with each other, and I was here killing myself. I decided that I needed answers, and I needed them from Lily. How could she betray me so much?

Her house was only a mile away, and I chose to drive there with the other car. I grabbed the keys and rushed through the downpour and into the garage, but it refused to budge at the last minute, leaving me with only two options. Accept defeat, or fight. No matter what.

The distance felt close enough for me to run even in my weakness. Truly, the chemo had left me frail, and my muscles unreliable more often than not, but the storm inside me was fiercer than the one raining hard. Without thinking any more, I pulled on a raincoat, the fabric doing much to cover my skeletal frame, and slipped on boots that felt too heavy. My phone, shoved into my pocket, was my only lifeline. I didn’t bother much with an umbrella—my raincoat was enough, and I would let the rain drown me if it wanted.

I was already drowning in enough grief.

The night was a blur of wind and water as I ran through, the boots making splattering sounds. Each step I took was a battle, my legs trembling under the weight of my body. The rain was so heavy that some of it soaked through my coat, chilling me to the bones, but I pressed on, driven by the need to confront the two people who had shared my secrets, my laughter, my life.

How could she…

Lily, with her warm smile and easy charm, had been my anchor through much of the diagnosis. She had brought me hot soup, held my hand during my chemo sessions, and promised to always be there. Now I knew she was not there for me, but him.

How long had she been lying?

How long had she been in his arms?

The first third of the mile-long journey was agony. My breath came in shallow gasps, and my nausea clawed at my throat. I stopped twice to retch the contents of an already empty stomach into the gutter, watching as the rain washed away the evidence of my weakness in the dark before carrying on. High above me, the tall street lights flickered, casting long shadows that seemed to mock my resolve as I ran. A car sped by, its headlights blinding, and I stumbled as it splashed more water on me, catching myself against a lamppost. My vision blurred—rain or tears, I couldn’t tell—but I forced myself to keep moving on.

Lily’s house was my destination, and her betrayal was my fuel.

By the second third of the mile, my body screamed for surrender. The pain in my joints had slowly burned to a blazing fire, each step igniting it anew. My bald scalp, exposed where the hood had slipped with so much running, the drops starting to sting under the relentless downpour. I thought of Ralph’s rage, his hands biting into my shoulders as he wished for my death. I thought of Lily’s moans, her betrayal captured in that fleeting video. These were the two images that fueled me, driving me forward with an energy that kept my feet moving. I was dying, yes, but I wouldn’t go quietly. Not without confronting them.

By the third third of the mile, I knew I had made a grave mistake.

My body slowed into a run that could hardly keep me on my feet, and my whole body ached. I was closer to her home than mine now, but it was just as glaring that it was wiser to have stayed home.

Too exhausted to go forward, and far too weakened to go back, I fell on the road, feeling the ice cold water sweep into my raincoat and all around me. My body gave off one final retch that I had no need to flush because of the running water, and I shivered so much that I knew I had hastened my long expected death.

I felt my body shutting down, the rain falling in torrents around me as I lost consciousness. All I remember seeing were bright white lights, and I thought it was good. I did not know how much good I had done, but I had to be staring at Heaven. Someone hovered over me, and I glimpsed his handsome face and the eyes peering into mine.

What an angel he was, I thought.

And that was all.