Page 57 of Morena
I clapped, stepping out from the shadows. My skin was bare but smeared in black mud, torn streaks hanging like strips of rotten cloth.
Francisco froze when he saw me. His eyes went wide, his breath stuck in his chest, while Isabella screamed and ran. She saw me before; this wasn’t her first time.
“Remember me?” I asked, circling him, watching the rise and fall of his chest, shallow, panicked.
I laughed. “Cat got your tongue?” Then I moved my fingers and dragged them around his shoulders from left to right.
1“Arañita chiquitita,
sube por la pared,
cuando baja la lluvia,
La vuelve a caer…”
I sang as I circled again, claws dragging the opposite way, slow enough that he felt every line.
2“Arañita pequeñita,
teje su red,
cuando viene la sombra,
ya no se ve…”
He shook, face pale, eyes rolling white. I leaned close and pushed him down. He scrambled, hands clawing the floor, crawling backward until the wall stopped him cold.
“What’s wrong?” I laughed, crouching over him. “Did you see a ghost?”
“I… I…” he stammered, his voice breaking apart.
I mocked him, “Yo... yo... tú qué, eh?”3
I yanked a chain with a hooked end off the wall and drove the hook into his left foot. He screamed. I raised an eyebrow and shrugged as pain turned his face inside out. I placed the chain across my shoulder, and I dragged his body across the basement, all the way up the stairs. As we reached the hallway, I kept pulling until we reached another set of stairs, and I kept pulling until I reached the last step.. I jammed the chain against the railing and sat down on his crotch, feeling him gasp beneath me.
“Tell me why you did it,” I said.
He howled when I twisted the hook deeper. “Huh?” I asked.
“I... I...” he choked.
“Okay, you don’t have to say.” I lifted him by the chain, and as he was on his feet, it was easier to shove him so his body dangled from the rail. Then I went down the stairs and grabbed his wrists, ripping them toward his ankles until flesh tore again.
“It was for my son,” he screamed. “I regret it every day. I left you in that room when I saw you alive. I went for Carmen to help, but when we came back, the room was on fire.”
Glass shattered somewhere above us. I moved in close. My claws found his eyes, and I dug. He screamed. Blood streamed down his brow, then from his forehead to his hair. I tore his eyes from their sockets and held them to my lips, tasting the salt as he screamed.
“I heard they taste good,” I said, bringing my lips and kissing,
Then I put them in my mouth and swallowed.
I licked my lips and said, “They were right.”
My hands locked around his throat. Cartilage cracked under my grip. His kicks slowed, then stilled.
A scream broke the silence upstairs. Footsteps pounded the staircase as Isabella rushed toward the front door. When she yanked at the handle, I was already there.
“Going somewhere, preciosa?”My laugh slid across the room.
