Family Secrets (A Short Story for Adult Readers)

Trigger Warning: This short story includes mention of violence, death, racism, and familial neglect. Reader discretion is advised.

I have woken up in a field, alone, naked, covered in blood, and with no recollection of how I got there. I sit up with a groan, and then I panic. I check myself for injuries, touch my privates to check for assault. But nothing, I seem fine, excluding the waking up alone in a field covered in blood.

I realized pretty quickly it wasn’t my blood. And unfortunately, this is not my first time waking up alone in a field, naked, covered in blood, with no recollection of how I got there. This has been going on for a month now, ever since I turned 30.

I was so looking forward to being 30. I was told that if you don’t have kids, your 30s are like your 20s, just with money. I don’t have kids, and I had just gotten a promotion at work with a very nice pay raise. But instead of enjoying my 30s, I am waking up in strange places nude.

I look around, not a soul in sight. How I always manage to end up far away from people while living in a capital city, I do not know. I get up and look around. How am I going to get home without drawing too much attention? A naked black woman running around what appears to be farmland is going to draw attention.

I’m so glad country folk use clotheslines, I think to myself as I sit in an Uber back to my apartment. My phone was lying in the grass next to me. I might be some sort of werewolf monster, but at least I manage to keep my phone.

Ok, I’m home. I look at the time, 8:30 am. My Uber driver wasn’t a talker, but he was a good driver, got me home with time to spare to get ready for work. I gave him a good tip. I shower, throwing the stolen clothes in the hamper. I’ll wash them and donate them to a women’s shelter. They’re stolen, but by donating them, I cancel out some of the bad. At least that’s how I justify it to myself.

As I am getting ready to attend the mandatory in-person meeting at the office, the last remnant of the bigwigs’ failed attempt to end work from home, I wonder again if I should call someone. Of course, my insurance won’t cover a psychologist trying to figure out why I black out regularly after my 30th birthday, and the cops will either do nothing or scream “AH A CRAZY NIGGER!” and shoot me, so I don’t know where to go. My mom will just panic and make me more stressed without helping. My dad, I’m not sure what my dad would do, probably encourage me to go to a doctor and then vaguely allude to it months later as his way of checking in.

I’m on my own.

They have repealed Roe v. Wade and are already signaling they plan to go after gay marriage next. The amount of rage, fear, and dismay I feel is paralyzing. I cry, but not as much as I probably need to. I can’t tear myself away from the news, from the internet. The sorrow is punctuated by rage. I feel numbed for a moment, like I’ve gotten high, and then I feel an all-consuming anger that feels like it’s physically changing me. I have never felt anger like this before. Then I black out.

 I have woken up in the woods, and dawn is breaking. I feel very wet, and I’m hoping it’s the morning dew. I haven’t opened my eyes yet, but I can smell blood. I sigh and open my eyes.

This is bad, this is really, really bad.

I am naked, covered in blood. And I mean drenched in it. My phone is on the ground beside me, like normal. But this time I am not alone. I am surrounded by bodies that have been mauled and torn to pieces. A lot of them are wearing bulletproof vests that have been shredded. Red hats that are even redder with blood. Ribbons of confederate and American flags are lying everywhere, some pieces still tied to sticks and poles, waving forlornly in the morning breeze.

I taste blood in my mouth, and I feel gore under my fingernails. I don’t know how, I don’t when, but I know I did this. But I don’t have time to dwell on that. I can’t be caught standing in the middle of a massacre of white supremacists.

I grab my phone and check it, 6:12 am. I hold it tightly as I begin to search around for clothes. No clotheslines here, no one lives out here. Looks like this is just a party spot for racists. I find the smallest men there and manage to find clothes that aren’t too bloody and aren’t ripped to shreds. The clothes are too big, but they’ll do to get me home. I stuff shreds of flags into the boots I find that are too big. Once I’m dressed, I start to run. I’m not sure where I’m running to, but I need to get away from that scene fast.

I wake up in my apartment, still in the bloody clothes I pulled off the dead men. I blacked out again, but somehow made it back to my apartment. My phone is on the nightstand, and I check the time. 12:30 pm. I don’t want to think about anything. I don’t want to think about what happened in the woods, about what I did. I take some edibles, and I take a shower. I am not going to donate the clothes this time; I am going to burn them.

Authorities are warning Winans County residents and visitors to be aware of wildlife after the discovery of 16 men who appeared to have been mauled to death by wildlife.

A resident discovered the scene while walking his dog this morning. Local police and state wildlife troopers responded to the scene with Fish and Game personnel. The animal or animals that killed all 16 men have not yet been identified.

Some Winans County residents, however, do not believe that this was a wildlife attack. All 16 men were known members of various white supremacist organizations. “We don’t have bears or wolves here! It was Antifa!” one resident who declined to identify themselves claimed. Police refuted this claim. A spokesperson for the Winans County Sheriff’s Office released a statement. “Any accusation that was an attack perpetrated by persons or persons is false. Based on the state of the bodies of those killed, this was an animal attack.”

Police have been spotted questioning a nearby local zoo known to house bears, tigers, and lions.

Luckily, it’s my day off, so I can stay home and mope. Do I turn myself in? Would they even believe me? My phone is ringing. I don’t even bother to look who it is. I ignore it.

I mean, what would I say if I turn myself in? “Hi, I think I’m a werewolf who blacks out and sometimes kills white supremacists?” In comic books, I would be a very dark superhero. Kind of like the Punisher. My phone is ringing again; ignore it.

I wonder if I just tie myself up at night, would that stop me? How strong are wolves anyway? Crap, I gotta pee. I get up, still ruminating on what to do and what I am when I see it. I pass by my full-length mirror, I keep it by my closet, and instead of my reflection, I see a lion. I freeze and stare at it. It’s looking at me, but not moving. I take a step back; it takes a step back.

“No.” I tell myself. It opens its mouth and closes it at the same time as I do. I shake my head vigorously, “No no no no.” It shakes its head vigorously, opening and closing its mouth at the same time I do. I’m not stupid; it’s very clear what’s going on. I’m not a werewolf.

I’m a fucking werelion.

My phone rings again; someone really wants to talk to me. If it’s work, I am not going to be nice. I look at my phone and immediately feel surprised and guilty. It’s my father’s mother, my Nana, whom I have not seen or spoken to for a couple of years now.

I answer, “Hello?”

“Nicole Paige.” Nana responds in greeting. First and middle name, I’m in trouble.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Have you begun to experience the change and did not bother to call me?” she asked in that very calm tone that meant you were in deep shit. But what change was she referring to? I’m way past puberty and not yet in menopause, so what could she WAIT A FUCKING SECOND. I look at the lion in the mirror.

“Nana, am I a werelion?”

She didn’t speak for a long time, to the point that I thought the call had dropped.

“Nana?” I asked, checking to make sure she was still there.

“Your mother and father didn’t tell you.” She says this as a statement, and the anger in her voice I have only ever heard once before when Renee had used a curse word in front of Nana. I love my Nana, and she is also the most terrifying person I have ever met.

“Tell me what, Nana?” I asked, scared of the answer but also desperate for it.

“You will come to my house for a visit as soon as possible.” She ordered me.

I didn’t argue with her, “Yes, ma’am.”

“And I will be calling your mother and father today. You may want to talk to them before you leave.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her tone got softer, gentler. “I’ll see you soon, baby.”

I went to my mom’s house. I had texted her beforehand, but she didn’t respond, so I went over anyway. On the drive over, I was getting angrier and angrier with my parents. They knew, they knew this was going to happen to me, and said nothing.

I knocked on my mom’s door.

“Come in.” she called.

I went in, and I could tell right away by the look on her face that she knew why I was there. Her phone was ringing, and she ignored it.

 “Are you ignoring Nana’s calls?” I started in.

 “Sit down.” She commanded.

“I don’t want to sit down.” I started pacing around her living room. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“I thought maybe you wouldn’t be like them.” She muttered, she gets real fucking quiet and acts like she is being fucking beaten when you confront her. I heard someone use the term “white female victim schtick” before, and in this moment, that’s what I think of her. Putting on a schtick to avoid being called out.

“Them being my family?” I was trying to control the volume of my voice, but it was quickly becoming a losing battle. She put up her hands like I was about to fucking hit her.

“I didn’t want to scare you.”

“So you thought never fucking telling me anything was the best course of action? Putting your head in the sand and letting me suffer in ignorance was the best choice to make?” I was yelling at this point.

“Do not curse at me!”

“Or what, Mom?” I screamed.

“I am still your mother!”

“Oh shut up.” I waved that away. “You fucked up, admit it.”

“What was I supposed to do? Let them teach you how to be like that?!”

“YES!”

I was panting now, and she was turning red. She grabbed her phone, stood up, and started walking away.

“I’m done with this conversation.” She said as she quickly retreated to her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

“Are you seriously putting your head in the sand again?” I screamed after her, “I turn into a fucking lion, you knew it would happen and didn’t tell me, and now you’re running away.”

She didn’t respond, the door to her bedroom staying resolutely closed. I didn’t check, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she had locked the door behind her. I gave up, knowing my mother was just going to ignore me.

Next stop, my dad’s house. Dad was sitting on the front porch, waiting for me. He had his phone in his hand, and by the look on his face, he had spoken to Nana. His mother must have given him quite a tongue-lashing based on the completely browbeaten demeanor he wore.

Still angry after confronting my mom, I slammed the car door and stomped up to him. He got up and opened the front door to let me in. I went in, and he followed. Once he had closed the door behind us, I turned on him, ready to start yelling, but he cut me off before I could start.

“Your grandmother told me what’s going on.” He began, “And the reason I didn’t tell you about the lion thing is because I assumed your mother would handle it.”

I looked at him incredulously, “But the lion thing comes from your side of the family. Why would mom be the one to handle telling me?”

“Because you lived with her most of the time.”

His answers made no fucking sense to me. Why would my mom be the one to handle telling me about being a werelion? Why wouldn’t my dad be the one to tell me?

“I told her what to tell you.” He said as he sat down in his favorite chair. “I guess she didn’t bother because it made her too uncomfortable, so now here we are.”

“Are you, are you fucking serious?” I shook my head, “Wow. You think this is not your fault at all.”

“I know I am partially responsible.” He replied flatly.

“Dad, didn’t you think to confirm that I was told about this whole lion thing? Didn’t you think that maybe I should be taken to Nana, who seems to know a lot about this for some kind of werelion training?”

He shrugged, “I assumed your mother would take care of it.”

“It’s your side of the family though!?”

He shook his head, almost sadly, “I don’t know what else to tell you. I assumed your mother would tell you and take care of it. But she didn’t.”

Did you know that lions have the loudest roar of all the big cats? A lion’s roar is so loud it can be heard 5 miles away. Which is why my dad’s house visibly rattled when I roared at him, incensed at his detached attitude, his dereliction.

 I could hear the neighbors coming out of their houses freaking the fuck out, but my dad remained nonplussed. We stared at each other for a long while, then I gave up. If he cares, he buried it so deep it might as well not exist. I left in a huff, and as I got to the car, I could hear sirens coming. I needed to get to Nana’s.