text: [Themes: horror, female protagonist]
  
  You remain perfectly still. Snow piles on your flowing hair. Each breathe feels like a sharp jab in the chest. Today must be the coldest day of the year, but that won't stop you from getting meat. Your ears perk up. In the distance, you hear the slightest discrepancy among the snow falling. Two maybe three animals approach.
  
  You doublecheck your position. Trees make visibility lower, but your position on top of a small hill helps that. The ridge is unfortunate because everything to your east, including those animals, can't be seen from your spot. If it wasn't for the two animal trails converging on this location, you wouldn't hunt here often.
  
  You give a toothy grin. All sorts of sensations flow through your body. It has a name in some book, probably. You just call it the Hunter's High. Everything comes into greater focus. The moonlight becomes brighter. The smells become more potent. Even the snow seems to fall slower.
  
  In most instances, you would strike, but their steps come closer and closer. You decide there are three different creatures. One sounds lighter than the other two, probably a small or sickly doe. No other creatures would sound like this.
  
  Your knees crouch just a few inches. You clench your hands into fists. They should be here soon.
  
  Three does step over a ridge. You strike and set your mind to a glorious hunt.
  
  Everything comes back into focus a little while later. You're not quite sure exactly how long it took, but the moon hasn't moved far. You clean the three carcasses before lugging them home.
  
  You hum. Nothing makes you happier than a successful hunt. You provide for your little family and get to run wild. No one else can do anything to you while being aggressor instead of the victim.
  
  Your house transitions from a tiny dot in the distance to your meager adobe. Instead of taking the front door, you walk around to the back. You take some rope out from your shed and hang the deer for them to air out. As you hoist up your final kill, you notice a light coming from your daughter's bedroom. It must be in the early hours of the morning. What is she doing?
  
  You creep to the back door and insert the key into the deadbolt. It clicks. You take careful steps inside, doing everything possible to not make a sound. Is she trying to waste electricity? She knows that stuff doesn't grow on trees. You slither up the stairs and peer into her room.
  
  Using her lamp, her room is casts into a dancing assortment of shadows. She holds a pencil and scratches away at a paper. This can't be writing. It's... Your blood boils and your teeth become fangs.
  
  "What the fuck are you doing!" You stomp into her room.
  She falls out of her seat and bumps her head against the wall. "M-m-m... I, uh..." Her eyes drown in fear.
  You pick up her paper. You see half a person, a girl by the looks of it. "Are you drawing?" You shove the picture an inch from her face and dangle it there.
  "Y-y-y..." She gives up trying to speak and nods. Tears form in her eyes.
  "Didn't I tell you to stop doing that!"
  She nods.
  "Holy shit, you're fucking retarded. You need to get your grades up, but you fuck around at night drawing pictures? I told you. God damn it! I damn right told you, but did you listen? No, you just did what you always wanted to do because you seem dead set to be a bum. At this rate, you'll be a bitch whoring out on the street. You think you can fuck with me and get away with it? Tell me!"
  
  She sits in the corner and cries.
  
  "Tell me!"
  She covers her head protectively. "I like drawing."
  
  > get Angry
  "You fucking what!"
  "I like drawing."
  
  You slap her across the cheek. She lets out a yelp. Faint claw marks already drip red on her face. "You think that's a good excuse? Fine! Try drawing without any of your shit!" You snatch up all her paper and every pen and pencil. "And you better not let your grades suffer. If I see one C, then you'll wish you had never been born."
  "B..."
  "What is it!"
  "How can I do school if you took all my supplies?"
  "Maybe you should've thought about that before you started drawing! Fucking hell, how can you be so stupid?"
  
  She doesn't say anything. All the bat does is sit in her corner and cry, not even giving you the proper respect to reply. How dare she!
  
  You pick her up by her shirt and scream in her face, "Answer me when I ask a question!"
  "Yes, ma'am."
  "That's not an answer!"
  
  You throw her down hard. Her body give an audible thud when it strikes. She screams in pain.
  
  Your spit flies from your teeth onto her face as you bellow in fury. "You fucking nitwit! Everyone knows art doesn't pay for shit. We live in shit, and I'm not even a fucking artist. Why are you so stupid?"
  "I'm a stupid person!" She clutches her forearm.
  "Yes. Finally you understand. You know what stupid girls do?"
  "N-no!" She clenches her teeth.
  "The do chores but they don't do art. Go to bed before you do anything else stupid. Oh, and suck it up, you pussy. A little pain never killed anyone."
  
  She stands and nods. Blood drips down freely from her sliced cheek. For some reason, the girl hasn't let go of her forearm.
  
  "Let go of your forearm already. You got no brains at all if you think I'll fall for a pity party trick."
  "I think it's broken," she whimpers.
  "Tough luck."
  "Really." She nods and sniffles.
  
  You pry her hand off an examine her arm. No bone protrudes from her arm, but that's one hell of a bruise already.
  
  "Deal with it. We don't have money to spare on frivolous things like hospitals."
  "My teachers will notice." She hiccups or whatever that pathetic noise is called. "They'll send me to a nurse who'll ask my why I hadn't gone to a hospital. That won't make you look good."
  "Manipulative bitch, you broke your arm on purpose!"
  
  She looks up at you. Her eyes narrow. "I'm going to a hospital, mother." For a fleeting moment, her eyes flash red.
  
  "Please stop!" You whimper and clutch your chest. "I'll make you your favorite-" Another slap stops you midsentence. As the world spins around, you see your daughter clutching her teddy bear. Her eyes are wide open in a frozen horror. "Mommy's alright. Go to bed, sweetie."
  
  "If you fuck up one more time." His lips curl into a grin baring his painted teeth. "You won't be the object of my attention." He motions towards your daughter. His eyes glow red, a horrible color. The color of blood.
  
  "No." It's not a whimper or a declaration. It's a cold statement, a fact of life. Your eyes glow red. The curse spread to you. His eyes open in terror moments before his throat is opened in a gory liberation.
  
  The curse has spread to her as well.
  
  "I'm sorry."
  
  > February 12th, 2010
  "Well, I better get going." She pats the flowers and walks away from the grave. Snowflakes already dust the flowers. The woman stops and looks back. "I never did get it though. How come you abruptly changed your mind like that? Dumping me off over a broken arm? I grew up in foster care from then on, though I'm not complaining. Much better people, you know?"
  
  She sighs. "Maybe it was the eyes. I don't think anyone can scare a monster. By comparison, everything else seems tame." She shoves her hands into the coat pockets. "The monster can't see anyone scary. When you're an evil, insane person, the only thing that can scare you is your own reflection."
  
  The woman turns around and gazes into the distance. An old truck awaits for her in the parking lot. A man is turned around in the driver's seat. She can tell he's talking to two beautiful children.
  
  "I like my reflection."