Big chunk of Of Wolves work I wrote ages ago but still really love : )
“Run,” screams Ma, like it’s the only word that she ever learned. She throws her quilt patch bag at you and then shoves her husband with all of her might. He goes backwards, but only a step.
It’s worse than any horror movie you’ve ever managed to get your hands on. Worse than anything you’ve seen out in the city, too, because this is your home, your family, your whole life fighting with each other here and now, digging claws into skin.
They grapple. He rakes nails over her face, lashing out like a bear. His nails are so sharp that it leaves big red lines in its wake.
Pa sees you. He makes that inhuman almost word sound again and lurches away from Ma, to the door.
Sweetie lunges. It’s an ingrained instinct, grabbing her collar with both hands and jerking. She’s snarling, barking, loyal to the very end – but nothing could ever be more loyal than Ma.
Ma who has so many teeth that you don’t even see them; Ma who would do anything and everything to keep her little girl safe; who has only ever, ever wanted the best for you, even if the best was just a homecooked meal and more freedom than she ever had as a girl, more love, so much love that you could drown in it.
She screams in a way that’s all rage and grabs the fire poker. The iron rod comes down hard on the back of Pa’s head. Ma screams again, just sound, her face red, blood on her cheek.
Pa hits the floor and gets straight back up, even with a dent in the back of his skull.
“Run,” says Ma. “You run, and don’t you dare look back.”
With one hand, you grab the bag that she threw before. The other is still tight around Sweetie’s collar; you’re barely strong enough to keep the dog in place.
Pa turns back towards her. She tightens her grip on the poker, lips curling up to show off all of her teeth.
“I’ll find you, Charlotte,” she promises.
So you turn, and you run.
