The night was dark around the four of us. We were like a baroque painting, given the light of the moon. Willa sat with Sandy sobbing into her chest, covering both of them in mucus, mascara, and eyeliner. Blanche hovered over them gently like a cherub, still whispering horrific nothings into Sandy's heavily-pierced ear. I sat on a stone nearby with my elbows on my knees, flipping a stick over and over in my hands. It wasn't out of boredom; it was more like guilt and anxiety.

I wondered, vaguely, when this thing was supposed to show up. Before, it had been so full of celerity. Before, it ran toward me with a particular viciousness, and absquatulated at the sound of whatever Pavlov's bell called for it. So where was it? Why was the loathing not drawing it? Why wasn't my very presence reeling it in? 

The mellifluous reassurances from Willa to Sandy stayed were molasses-like in my ear canals, where the words lived, fucked, and died while I tried to figure out what we were supposed to do next. Sandy's cries stopped occasionally as she took deep, heaving breaths. Unfortunately, the crying was recrudescent. After a few moments, the snotty sobs came back and I was one step closer to snapping. I considered getting up and going for a walk, but didn't want to get up until I had to. 

It was hard to concentrate or form a cohesive thought, even in those moments when the world was silent or when I was jostling my leg in the way that Cash always hated. It shook the table and he couldn't stand it. He was a hypocrite, though, because he was always air-drumming to a tune nobody else could hear, and that pissed me off, so who was the real villain here? It was me, it had always been me, and I figured that the way the pieces were falling was proof of that. 

And where was Ethan? We wouldn't be able to kill this thing without him. And we were going to have to protect Sandy at all costs. The Eye For An Eye was going to flee as soon as she was gone or as soon as it was called away by whatever master held it close. 

That made sense to me, that someone was controlling it. Sure, it had its instincts, but there was something about the way it ran off that made me think that the Eye For An Eye wasn't entirely its own being. But who would kill a teenage girl with a monster instead of their own hands? Who would torment me with the memory of my demise? 

Maybe that was me. Maybe I was the one tormenting myself by thinking about it so often. But I couldn't not think about it. It was always there, just behind my eyelids. I was reminded of it constantly. My own body was like a mnemonic device I couldn't escape. 

God, everything about this set me on edge. We were sitting ducks here and, yet, no hunter came to pick us off. Even the cows knew to stay away from this place. They were lowing out in the distance near a small creek, but they didn't dare approach.

While we sat there, I couldn't help but notice a look come over Blanche's face. It was smething like recognition or familiarity. 

I sighed. "What, Blanche?" 

"Hmm?" 

"What's making you so happy? Because I know it's not just your wholesale torture of Sandy and the prospect of killing everyone she holds dear by messing all this up." 

"Wow. Melodramatic bitch much?" 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, just-- what is it?" 

"I know this part of the woods. Back when I was younger-- well, my grandpa was always a big doomsday prepper. He was Mormon, so he was already into the whole food storage thing, and there was the threat of, like, you know, nukes? And he built this bunker out here and he would take me down there all the time." 

"That's... weird." 

"Not really." 

We fell into a tense silence again, waiting. We were always waiting. 

Sandy was so tuckered out by every thought plaguing her, all the sobbing, and every little thing Blanche whispered in her ear that she was asleep on the log next to Willa. She was laying in the dirt with her head on the wood. Willa sat next to her, playing gently with one of Sandy's strands of neon hair. She did that with her left hand. With her right, she was texting someone by the dim light of her smartphone; Blanche was up in a tree, snapping a twig into smaller pieces; I was still sitting where I was; and Ethan still wasn't here. How long had it been?

With a deep, convoluted sigh, I tossed the stick once again--

And there it was.

Lit by the moon over us, the Eye For An Eye lurked at the edge of the clearing, covered in blood. It didn't stay there for long.

As soon as it began to approach, running like a dog, Willa jumped to her feet and put herself in between Sandy and the monster. On the count of two, she picked up a thick, splintery stick from near her feet; on the count of four, it got close enough for her to hit it with her makeshift weapon. The stick doesn't breach its skin. It doesn't even leave a bruise. Willa stepped back and, still brandishing the stick, positioned herself to protect Sandy further.

I was still getting up at that point, which was when Blanche stepped into the ring.

"Hey, bitch!" Blanche yelled, now standing. Her hands were glowing like my fists had before. Blanche's powers must have outranked my own, though, because she gathered that glowing, soul-like substance in her hands. She formed it like a ball of electricity, then lobbed it at the Eye For An Eye like she's some sort of pitcher. It hit, connected with it at its mouth, shattered its already jagged teeth, and made that thick black blood in its constricted veins start to flow down its angular chin.

It screamed as loud as a dinosaur in a B-movie, making bubbles of sludge between the shards of tooth and bone in the back of its mouth. The bubbles popped as quickly as they were created. I could see blisters already starting to form on what remained of its soft palate.

While the Eye For An Eye turned its attention toward Blanche, Willa, and Sandy, I took the opportunity to make my own assault on it. Ethan still wasn't here, so he still couldn't tell us what we were supposed to do to kill this thing. The only option left was to harm it as much as we could until he got here.

My fists, not yet glowing, connected with the thin skin of the Eye For An Eye's ribs as it loomed over Blanche. Like when Willa hit it with the stick, my attack didn't seem to harm it. My fist just kind of lingered there.

I looked up with it slowly, with fear making my heart beat and my nostrils flare. There was a tense moment between the two of us, just before it hit me in retaliation. Its thick, shredded fingernails took to the side of my torso like utensils in a crock pot full of pork. There was no blood, but I could feel my skin start to come away from my bones. It was a quick slash with one long-fingered hand, then another as it drew its hand back toward me. Like it had the first time, the second attack tore away more of my skin.

While I was still reeling from the two consecutive blows, the Eye For An Eye turned its attention back to Willa. It was quickly obvious that it was not focused on her, because it pushed her away with both hands so that it could get to Sandy. That's who it was really here for. Even though Willa was mostly pushed out of the way, she lifted her leg in a high kick. That was enough to throw off the attacks of the Eye For An Eye, which was sufficiently blocked.

This all happened within a few minutes, which was apparently enough time for Ethan to get to this clearing. He ran in, clutching his thick leather book to his chest with both arms and his phone with one hand. "I got Willa's text!" he yelled, while struggling to climb over a log that was only a few inches taller than a normal curb.

I whirled around angrily, glared at him, and, forgetting that he probably couldn't see me, shouted back, "Stop being so pathetic and do something, then!"

Ethan stopped in his tracks, not in response to me, but to the monster looming over Blanche. He froze, dropped his phone into the cold dirt, and started to back up slowly, whispering swear words under his bated breath. Holding his book like a security blanket and backing up so quickly that he stepped on his  phone and cracked the screen, he turned around to go. 

I couldn't let him leave. That just wasn't an option. He was our only hope of killing this thing. So, as he took his first step to run away and abandon everyone else to this twisted, depraved monster, I stepped in front of him and pushed against his shoulder. 

That made everything worse, though. Now he could see me, and he was not impressed or chuffed, to say the least. A scream that ripped out of his mouth like paper from a wet legal pad. I guessed that was what I got for daring to be dead around the living. 

"Calm the fuck down and help us merc this thing," I demanded. I wasn't sure how terrifying I looked to him, but I could see the wounds on my face in the reflection of his eyes and I was sure that the fact that I was supposed to be dead wasn't lost on him. I could see everything from the wild look on my face to the hay stuck in my hair. I tried picking it out earlier, but it kept appearing. With a disappointed sort of embarrassment, I also realized that my shirt had come untucked and my decimated midriff was partially exposed. Hastily, I shoved the fabric back into my jeans.

"I-- What-- How--"

"I'm undead, you little bitch, now stop asking questions and tell us how to kill it."

"I-- right. Okay." His voice cracked on the last word and he cracked open the book and clicked on a small metal flashlight with a shaking thumb. While he flipped through and tried to find the correct page (generally doing nerd shit), I launched myself back into the fight.

Blanche and Willa were still duking it out with the monster. Blanche's sweater was torn, Willa was bleeding, and Sandy was still asleep in a bush. If she could sleep through this, I knew she could sleep through anything.

Willa had a broken bottle in one hand and her same stick, which was now drenched in black blood, in the other. She swiped the bottle in front of her, but it didn't connect. The Eye For An Eye was just an inch or two too far away for her to do any damage.

Blanche grunted, groaned, and shook her head. Skin was peeling off of her forehead. It didn't seem to hurt her. She still managed to gather up another ball of glowing substance, but it was more lackluster and much smaller than the first. I had no idea what to refer to or conceptualize what she was doing than by thinking of her drawing it from within himself. Her spiritual ball weapons tore a chunk of skin and bone from the Eye For An Eye's left thigh. It splintered, revealing only the outline of spongy bone within. It was like the world's most severe case of osteoporosis. The periosteum was thick and hard, though, and it looked like it would be even harder to penetrate.

I threw myself back into the fray. My fists glowed as they connected with it, one after the other, three times each. It was like they were separate from me entirely. It was like my hands had a ind of their own. 

I glowered at the Eye For An Eye; I seethed with my teeth bared. Something about the fury of me, this stupid little angry undead thing tearing into its flesh like that, was enough to shake the monster. It was enough to throw it off. The Eye For An Eye roared once again and checked me with one of its spiky hips.

That was enough to wake Sandy up. She jolted back to life in the bushes, like she had suddenly shaken off all of Blanche's influence on her psyche. I guess it's true, what they say: the moment you begin to feel like everyone hates you, that's when you need to go to sleep.

The Eye For An Eye saw her there. Like it did back in the downstairs track, it looked into her eyes. Seeping pure malice from between its teeth, tried to trap her in a memory or horrible thought. I know that because, as soon as it failed to trap her, and knew it, the Eye For An Eye turned to me. 

And I was trapped. In its psychic attacks, I was trapped. In its supernatural stranglehold, I was trapped.