Chapter 1
"Hello?" Pheobe whispered, knuckles gripping the doorknob. She glanced out into the darkness, before standing on her tippy toes to see the time atop the stove. Her poofy hair rested lopsidedly in a semi-bed head.
12:43
Pheobe huffed and treaded carefully around the remnants of a shattered glass bottle. It was too late to be doing this. Not to mention it was only her in the house this time around.
Her father's drunken form lay half in halfway between the kitchen and the living room.
A quiet snap of a branch brought her attention back to the open door.
"Hello." Pheobe called again, squinting to see a human form in the darkness. They stood for a brief moment at the edge of the tree line, before striding to just where the light of the door ended.
"Run. Run little girl. You wouldn't want to be caught by the snatchers." The form whispers, their voice like smooth silk (Pheobe was too young to be able to notice the quiver of fear in the stranger's voice). The voice invited her outside, tempting without outright saying it.
"My sister told me not to talk to strangers." Pheobe attempted to quickly shut the door. Maybe tonight wasn't a good time to investigate the scratches in the woods, or the ripped off bark and the bushes ripped out of the ground, especially if what was causing them was what Pheobe thought they were.
"Oh, but little girl, I am a friend. A friend of your sister, you see? She invited me here, to visit you." The figure caught the doorway, a pale, bony hand gripping the door.
"To visit... me?" She squeaked.
"Oh yes darling. She tells me all about her charming little sister, a beautiful girl. Pure and whole." 'Too pure. I want to be the one to break you.' The figure leaned against the doorway.
Pheobe stepped back into the house, twitching. "Why are you here?"
The figure made a sharp motion to cover their heart as if offended. "Why, we must work on that attitude of yours. That was such a mean thing to say to a friend. Your sister sent me here to protect you from... that..." The stranger pointed at Pheobe's father's prone form with a single jabbing finger.
"B-but he is my father. I love him." The figure came into the light of the doorway. Their face was horribly disfigured, scratch and claw marks covering their face. Their eyes were wide and twitchy, bouncing from one thing to the next. Pheobe let out a half scream before realizing that it was rude, and she covered her flaming face with her hand. Her embarrassment faded into her shock at the stranger's next words.
"Do you love him when he comes home drunk, and throwing bottles at you and your siblings? Do you love him when he screams and curses at you? When he says words that you thought he would never say to you. When he forgets to get you medicine, leaving you shivering in the dark in pain," Their voice sharpened like a cruel whip before softening again.
The five-year-old should have really questioned how he knew this information.
"I want to help you Pheobe. I really do. But you must let go of these attachments." Their hand gripped her wrist, sending a horrible shivering feeling up her arm.
"They're not att-" Pheobe sputtered.
"I can keep you safe, I can keep you whole. You need to come with me to be safe."
"O-Okay. I-I need my bag before we go though."
"Of course, of course. You must be quick about it though."
Pheobe raced up stairs to get her bag before starting her trip downstairs to this friend.
'You are not a friend.
You are a predator.
I do not know whether you are the worst kind or not quite there yet.
My sisters told me nobody knows about me.
My siblings do not live with me.
I do not need to be saved.
We tell nobody of my condition.
I have little attachment to people.
I will be quick.
And I will be strong.
I am not whole.
But you are not a friend.
You are a predator.
And I will not be your prey.'
Pheobe lightly trotted up the stairs, careful not to be so loud as to wake her father. Then she opened the door to her room silently, not even bothering to pack much into her small pre-k prepped backpack. She walked over to the window, grabbing a key put on the windowsill and began her decent downstairs. She stopped for a moment, looking up at the figure, before timidly asking; "Can I get a snack from the kitchen? I'm sort of hungry."
This was her ticket. If she failed, she was as good as defenseless. Perhaps she could run? But outrunning an adult would not be the same as outrunning her brother, who was one year younger than her.
They laughed- a timid, screeching sound that grated on Pheobe’s ears- before saying, "Sure darling. Go ahead."
‘There won’t be anything bad with letting her get food, right? I mean, she’s going to die in the next thirty minutes.’
Pheobe scampered into the kitchen, her feet lightly slapping the ceramic tile. She grabbed the bag of mini, plain bagels from the bread box. ‘Best to get these to keep up the act.’ She fumbled with the outer pocket of her backpack for a moment, grabbing the key before opening the cabinet under the sink.
She glanced at the unregistered gun. Too loud and flashy. People were surely going to report shots heard in the countryside. Not to mention she didn't think she could adjust to the kickback. Elio had told her that when he was younger, he broke his arm because he handled a gun improperly.
Next, the machete. It was as long as two-thirds of her, and Pheobe doubted she could hold it steadily. And there were dried blood splotches on the handle. ‘Blegh.’
Which left the hunting knives. The smallest one was the size of her forearm, meant for adults. She wasn't quite as revolted to this weapon compared to the other two options. 'Ah, I guess I should've taken Rue's offer for learning how to fight with this thingy.'
Pheobe gingerly tucked the hunting knife into her backpack, nestling the shortest knife between two notebooks. She snatched her hands back, not wanting to touch the thing for more than a second. 'O.K. Wait.'
She took a deep breath in and out, slowly blinking. Putting on the persona of a cheerful but sleepy child, Pheobe ran over towards her new 'friend.'
She clutched his hand, glancing down in surprise at his lack of ring and pinky fingers. She snatched her hand back as her face twisted into a horrified expression. "Did you get hurt?"
“I’m sorry, that was very ru-?!”
"Yes, but it doesn't hurt anymore. Let us go darling." They told her in a clipped tone. They left now room for argument, and the follow-up questions died in Pheobe's throat. They gripped her hand, leading her into the forest right outside her house. Pheobe stopped abruptly, her face twisting into a fearful look at their scowl.
"What's your name Mr....?"
"Pettigrew. Peter Pettigrew at your service, darling." He grinned toothlessly down at her. She smiled back as he led her over roots and vines.
"Want to play a game?"
"Sure! What's the game?" Pheobe lifted her backpack off her shoulders, and rummaged for a bagel.
"It's a game called twenty questions. But we'll just make it five for the sake of time. You ask me a question and I answer as truthfully as I can, and vice versa."
"What's a vice-versa?" Peter's irremovable smile twitched. ‘I forgot how stupid children were.’
"It means when you flip flop something. So, I've been leading you for 5 minutes now. If we stopped right now and you lead me for five minutes, we could say that I would lead for five minutes and then switch with you. And then we would say, 'and then vice versa'." Peter grinned at her. "Four questions left."
Pheobe huffed but did not complain. "My turn. What happened to your wrists?" Peter gestured to her wrists, which were covered in bandages.
His tone was warm and laced with a hint of worry.
Pheobe smiled sheepishly, putting on the appearance as if she were embarrassed. "O-oh. Uhm, I, uhhhh." Pheobe thought of her most embarrassing memory, when she accidentally walked in on Rue making out with her fiancé. She wasn't supposed to tell anyone about her deformities. Her cheeks turned a rosy color as she smiled at the tree root they were walking over.
"Me and my friend were running down the stairs when I tripped, and I hit my wrist. I sp-psps."
She blew a raspberry. "It ended with a 'rain.' They said that I bent my wrist funny."
"A sprain?" He guessed with a smile that looked a little bit too forced to be real.
"Yeah! That!" She grinned at him. "Too bad you're Rue's friend. You are nice."
Peter raised an eyebrow. "How come we can't be friends? I'm sure your sister will be fine sharing me with you."
Hermione smiled at him, her dark brown cheeks gaining a warm red tint.
"Yeah! She would!" She smiled triumphantly (or the evilest smile a five-year-old could manage). "That was two! You have two weft!"
Peter smiled at her again, eyes twitching back and forth around them.
He gasped suddenly, making Pheobe nearly stumble into him. "OH NO! I forgot to get something for your sister! I said I would get it for her..." Peter glanced around the darkness expectantly.
"Can you stay here while I go get it?"
He practically ran off, not waiting for her answer. His loud footsteps sounded throughout the forest before unexpectedly going silent.
'Oh-Okay.'
"Wait! Don't leave me!" Pheobe shouted, stumbling over roots Peter had lifted her over. Branches twisted and snapped as she ran through the bushes, thorns snagging on her pajamas. Admitedly, she didn’t have to act anymore, but now she was stuck in the dark with no people in sight for about a mile, in the dead of night.
As she pondered her ill-fated luck, her foot caught on a tree root. She fell slowly, rolling and twisting in uncomfortable ways as she tumbled down a slope. Her screams echoed around the forest, her heart nearly beating faster than her mind. She landed hard on her wrist, bones twisting back painfully.
There was a loud thumping noise behind he, almost as if a large animal had made it.
"Mr. Pettigrew!" Pheobe exclaimed, too relieved to feel angry that he had left her.
The fall and lack of sleep must have knocked all the sense out of her, because, had she been in her right mind, she would have known that;
- Adults can apparate.
- If Peter had been able to remember her name- why had he not remembered what he needed to get?
Why had she even thought to follow a stranger into the woods, honestly?
She whipped around quickly, her eyes locking onto a startlingly bright-green eyed creature. It was a hunk of a being, large and towering over most grown adults, even on its hind legs. Their fur was matted and tangled. The creature's head bore a striking resemblance to that of a wolf. It's nose was twitching, sniffing her out.
Pheobe inhaled slowly as its eyes started at her. But not just her, physically. It was staring at her body. As if she was a treat to be consumed. It sent a shivering feeling up her spine. She took a slow step back, her eyes twitching towards the wide path she had left behind her. It growled and took a wide stance.
A twisted sob broke through her throat as she realized she was going to die. She would die, alone in the woods to some wolf, for being stupid enough to follow a stranger. Not strong enough to grab the key and lock the door. Too busy playing Peter like a fool to realize she was being manipulated- not him.
Pheobe felt a dose of adrenaline thrumming through her veins. Coursing through the very bane of her existence. Her blood.
"NO!" Pheobe screamed, stumbling back as she surprised both of them with her volume. "You're not taking me!"
Pheobe fumbled for her backpack and drew out the hunting knife. As she threw the bagel she was eating to the side, she watched as the wolf-creature dove after it. She contemplated her next moves and her grip loosened as she observed her choices.
She was clutching it in a way that she knew would make Rue cringe. But screw it, because she wanted to live.
A different chemical soon dominated the adrenaline in her veins. It gave her a cool sense of control, while also reminding her about the warnings she received. From her teachers.
From family.
From everybody.
Pheobe's grip on the hunting knife stiffened.
You will never control it.
Pheobe raised the knife, knowing what she was about to do was so absolutely stupid.
That is not an insult.
‘Stupid, stupid!’
Pheobe cursed herself, but she didn’t stop raising her forearm.
It is a fact.
She gently placed the edge of the knife on her wrist.
It controls you.
The knife was now resting on a mass of discolored, bulging veins.
Stop. Fighting.
Pheobe sliced downwards, screaming in pain as the blade lodged itself in her delicate, soft skin.
She then raised the bloody knife, stumbling as the blood quickly escaped her body.
The dripping stilled, and the world seemed to spin as the blood twitched, slowly rising. Pheobe opened and closed her mouth. Her body gave a massive jerk before she fell back into a tree trunk.
Her eyes rolled up in her head as her sight waned. Probably a good thing too.
That way she couldn't see the way her blood reached out and twisted. How it snapped the limbs of the creature, it's howls ringing out into the silence. The blood twitched around its body. It surely broke every bone in their body. The blood wrapped around the joints and limbs with a gentleness that felt out of place. Soon enough, the blood violently jerked, breaking the bones and splitting the tendons and mucules. The feet and hands went first. Then legs, arms, ribs, and collarbone. The blood then swirled around the face of the beast, hesitating. The blood reached out with a snap, and a sharp tendril of blood ripped across the creature's neck. In a final fit of rage, the was a loud series of cracking noises as the blood mercilessly grinded the skull of its victim.
Pheobe hated how she loved the murder so.
It was a quick process for the blood loss to get to her head, and she passed out to a thumping rhythm, dimly aware of being carried.