Misfits
Part Two
Shiloh tried to turn away from the moonlight, trying to point out the man without being seen. It would be worse if Wendy saw. It was always worse.
“Wait, quit trying to turn around, let me look at you.” Wendy was already coming closer, reaching out, being mother.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you aren’t. That’s why this went sideways didn’t it? What did he do?”
Shiloh knew that turning away would mean getting pulled around. There would be that same look either way. Wendy would pick at it and then start yelling when she didn’t get her way. Wendy was going to yell either way.
Shiloh turned into the light and Wendy gasped. It looked worse than it was, that was always the way with Shiloh. The make up smeared, a wig carefully pinned into place, since carelessly pulled to reveal the always hated short, mouse brown hair.
Wendy didn’t yell or pull at Shiloh. It was worse than that. Wendy smiled if for only a second before pulling her veneer of concern back over her face. She shouted but not at Shiloh. “Oh, this is about to be so much worse for you, fucker!”
The man in the bushes tried to run and nearly tripped over his own feet. He kept himself upright but he had to put his hands out. More of him spilled out over the leaves and he cried out in horror.
Wendy was already on him, coming up from behind. She had her knives out, her version of claws. She drug one along his back and then another along the outside of his arm as he tried to turn and cry out. “One drink, you worthless shit! One drink and nighty night and never wake up again.” She waited until he was done turning around, grabbing at his freshly wounded arm before she slashed out at the tops of his thighs just below his genitals. These were shallow cuts, careful and mean. Not meant to end his suffering, but meant to prolong it. “But no, not you. You put hands on my sister you stupid shit, so you get to die slow.”