Vix gasped at what she saw. The figure was a werewolf. What startled her more was that she recognized who it was. She averted her gaze, looking distant. “I didn’t know that werewolves were allowed into heaven.”
“They, like any other sentient being, are judged as well. This one is only an image,” Ben replied. “I know this is a very difficult decision for you, Kristen. Take your time.”
She looked back briefly, catching a glimpse of the lycanthrope before turning to Ben. “What should I do?” she sighed.
Ben softly placed his hands on Vix’s shoulders and looked directly into Vix’s eyes. “Do what you believe is right.”
Vix shook her head, her eyes watered. “I’ve blamed them for everything they’ve to me, and parts of me will always do. They took everything from me… my family,” she turned to face them expecting to the mark of disappointment, there was only understanding. Pain crept up on her. She would have been better off if they were disappointed. Their acceptance only made her loss that much more difficult.
Unable to continue looking at her family, she averts downward at herself. “…my childhood,” Vix recalled her hardships growing up. The emotions that she kept locked away in her mind hoping that they would just disappear. However, it only served to fuel her quest of vengeance later. There was only one person that prevented her from having a total emotional collapse.
“… you.” She stared at Ben, the last person that took care of her. He showed her a lot about life beyond grief. The memories that they shared were the ones that she valued the most. He gave Vix order in her life, helping to council her with her anguish and in building the mental strength she needed.
Ben opened his mouth to speak, however Vix wasn’t done. She closed her eyes briefly before looking at the lycanthrope. Tears rolled down her stoic face. “And because of what they’ve done, I’ve hated and hunted them,” she said ending with a hint of anger.
Turning her body around, she approached the werewolf letting Ben’s hand fall away from her shoulder. She stood less than an arms length from the figure. Although it was a little more than half a foot taller than Vix, she glared at it as if it nothing more than a pup. The werewolf stared blankly forward over her. “Look at me!” Vix screamed out in rage, but nothing changed. Vix thought it was ignoring her, throwing her into a fit of fury.
“Damn you! Look at me!” She gave the werewolf a vicious kick to the side. There was a loud “WHUMP” as the kick landed. No reaction.
“You trigger my nightmares!” She throws a hard right punch in its stomach.
“You torment my dreams!” She hooks a left punch at its kidney.
“You stole my sleep!” Gives right jab in the midsection.
“You fuck up my life!” Her right elbow slams into its ribcage.
“You shitty,” a left uppercut to its jaw,
“fucking,” hard right punch,
“bitch!” left hook,
“I!” right jab,
“Hate!” right elbow,
“You!”
Vix fell to her knees sobbing and drained. The werewolf didn’t budge. She clawed at its dark legs. “Why won’t you look at me?” she repeated hoarsely.
She felt a touch on her shoulder again, this time it wasn’t Ben. Vix noticed that the lycanthrope she had tried to desperately move by force had moved on its own, its padded hand resting on her. She faced up from her sunken state.
The werewolf was looking down at Vix. Its expression had softened. It was a mild, gentle, and almost understanding look. What captivated Vix above all were its eyes. They weren’t the predatory golden-yellow in her dreams. They were same black eyes Vix saw every time she looked in a mirror. It was then she realized that this werewolf was in essence a true reflection of herself, and not the monster portrayed as her in her nightmares.
As if sensing her newfound understanding, Vix’s wolfen self cradled her back up to her feet. They both peered at each other momentarily before stepping into each other. Instead of colliding, her wolfen self phased into an ethereal form. The ghostly werewolf overlaid Vix, and she turned around to face the same direction as her counterpart.
Ben and her family smiled proudly at Vix.
“I told you she could do it,” said Vix’s brother prodding their father.
“Yeah, never doubted her for a moment did you?” he playfully responded in kind.
Vix felt something alien to her, something that she last felt in that dream when she had control of her wolfen self. Peace.
“Are you ready to go back?” Ben asked.
“No, not yet,” Vix replied. Both Vix and her ethereal werewolf walked toward Ben in unison. She reached behind her neck and detached her small keepsake. She placed the silver necklace in the palm of her hand and presented it to Ben. “Here.”
“I gave that to you as a gift.” His eyes twinkled.
Vix looked at the silver keepsake in her hand. “I know. I hoped by keeping it I was making you proud.” Looking at him, she took his hand and placed the necklace on it. “I see that you already are.”
Ben gave Vix a hearty hug which was soon joined in by the rest of her family, but not without some playful disdain from her brother.
“Do I have to?” he said feigning half-heartedness.
“Nah, you can stay there and be alone,” Vix winked.
Shrugging, he twiddles his feet. “Well, if you insist.”
“Get over here twerp,” she grinned, picking him up off his feet.
After exchanging goodbyes, Vix nodded at Ben. “Now, I’m ready.”
“Close your eyes,” Ben softly stated. Vix took one good look at everyone, and closed them. There was a feeling of weightlessness as she was projected back into the realm of reality.
Once Vix was gone, her mother asked Ben, “Do you think she’ll make it even though she won’t remember any of this.”
“By proving that she can accept herself here, she can do the same there,” he answered optimistically. “One can only hope…”
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Vix’s body was laid across the smooth wood bench, her bloodied necklace dangling off the side of her neck. The silver cross swayed as a breeze swept through the open doors of the cathedral. As if on cue, the loosened fastener on the necklace detached. The silvery keepsake fell off from Vix’s neck, slid off the edge of the bench, and came to rest on the stone floor.
Seconds later, paramedics arrived at the old cathedral. A bit in awe of the wood splinters that litter the floor, they quickly found Dan’s corpse.
“He’s long gone,” said a paramedic after a brief evaluation.
“There’s another over here,” a different paramedic beckoned toward Vix. “I have a weak pulse!” the paramedic shouted as the other went to bring about the stretcher.