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Summary
“There are two kinds of animals in this world,” your father had said, while the pig roasted on a spit. Its burnt flesh soiled the fragrant night air. "There are the wolves, and there are what the wolves eat.” At the time, you hadn't understood what he meant by that, but you’d nodded along, eager to please.
Now you know.
Are you a wolf? Or are you the pig with its stomach sliced open, roasting on an open fire?
You look to where you’ve torn open your arm. Where something inhuman, something unexplainable, lies beneath.
You decide, then, that you will not be the pig.
an innocent summertime romance becomes a sordid summertime bloodbath.