Deliciously Deadly: a Red Riding Hood retelling

Chapter 18

Lottie chased after Cain through the dark tunnels of the Den, panting as she ran as fast as her legs could move. Somehow, the distance between them only grew.

By the time she followed him to their bedchamber and pushed the door open with a rough shove, Cain was already slumped on the floor in the corner, his expression forlorn, looking more like a sad puppy than a real sad puppy.

"What's wrong?" She rushed over to him, dropping to her knees so she could meet him at eye level.

Yet he avoided all eye contact with her, obstinate in his attempt to ignore her in favour of staring a hole into the floor.

"What's wrong, Cain? Are you hurt?" Lottie pressed, placing a tentative touch to his arms, where his sleeves were ripped and bloody.

What came next was worse than the ignoring: he flinched.

He flinched and backed away from her, like he once did years ago when her fingers brushed his. When he led her to believe that he had not a shred of interest in her—or was even disgusted by their proximity.

"Go," he said, as if the flinching alone wasn't enough.

This was it again. The same rejection and contempt that stabbed like a blade to her heart.

The old Lottie would run away and hide, keep her head down and sob in solitude. But the new Lottie was determined to do better, to avoid returning to their cycle of misunderstandings. So she swallowed back her tears and stood her ground. "I won't go until you tell me what's wrong."

Given his reactions so far, she'd half-expected his response to be an irritated spat. She'd certainly not expected him to be so dejected, so lifeless in his tone as he replied, "You should leave."

"I'm not leaving, Cain. I love you."

"You have others now." Then he added quietly, "You don't need me."

It was confusing, as if he was the one who'd been rejected and not her. "I don't have anyone else. And even if there were countless others around me, I still need you, Cain. I'll always need you."

"You don't." He continued to stare at the floor. "I'm despicable."

"Don't you say that about yourself."

Cain finally turned his eyes up to meet hers, and she was surprised to find the deep shadows that lurked beneath his eyes. "I kill, Lottie. I am a monster."

"You're not, Cain."

"You don't know what I've done."

"I know enough. I know that whatever you've done that has troubled you so, you've done because you had to."

He continued to avoid meeting her eyes, but at last he gave one discreet nod, and she understood then. He missed their old life back on the farm; she did too. There, they planted seeds and watched them grow. Here, their livelihood depended on him killing things and having blood on his hands.

With a sigh, Lottie reached for the pail of water nearby and picked up a damp rag. This time, she gripped his arm firmly, forbidding any flinching or other avoidance tactics, and scrubbed away at every bit of dried blood on his skin.

"You're not despicable nor monstrous, Cain. What you're doing is perfectly respectable work."

"I don't think so."

"Well, I think so." And the woman was always right, according to Viola and all the other ladies in the Den.

"You have... better choices."

"What better choices?"

"Like... Demon."

Lottie paused in her cleaning and looked up, bewildered by the way Cain gritted the other man's name like it was poison.