It’s a small town, the type of place where everyone knew everyone. A place where the most popular people in town shared the surnames found on building plaques. His wife had painted it like the setting of a romance movie, but the longer he stayed, the more sinister things became. His father-in-law was a tall man with eyes of an unnatural color. They reminded him of citrines as they glimmered at him with malice.

“You won’t be staying long, right?” He asked but it sounded more like a threat.

His wife doesn't react. Instead, she neutrally replied.

“No, Daddy, we won’t be staying long at all.”

Later he and his wife are back in their room at a nearby inn. There’s a vanity in the room that his wife has staked a claim on since they arrived. She sits there now, reapplying her lipstick. On the table, her makeup brushes are scattered. The lipstick she’s applying , her signature red, was newly bought before the trip but now it’s almost down to a nub. Something feels wrong and it all started when they arrived. His usual meticulous wife was becoming messy and she didn’t laugh at his jokes as much. Outwardly, she looked fine but it felt like he was looking at a mirage. Any second, he thinks he’ll see through her neutral expression but her face was like stone. It scared him.

“Is everything alright, honey?”

She presses her lips together, admiring her lipstick in the mirror. Her lipstick tube is still in her hands. It takes a moment but she replies.

“Peachy.”

“Good,” he replies but his worry doesn’t ease. “Your father doesn’t seem very fond of me.”

“Hmm,” She replies with feigned interest.

“Do you know why he could hate me?”

She places the tube of lipstick down on the table. Her left-hand goes over to the silver bracelet worn on her right. She touches it and her hand recoils. For a brief second, he’s sure he caught sight of a burn but he shakes the idea off. She gets up from her vanity, heading over to the bed he himself is lying in. She lays beside him, turning her bedside table lamp off but his stays on.

“Daddy, doesn’t hate anyone, Harold,” she says, her voice strangely quiet. “Now, let’s get some sleep.”

The next day, they go back to his father-in-law’s place. They were going to stay there all day to help him clean which gave him a chance to explore the wearing down house. He comes across a hallway covered in portraits of women all of who look similar to his wife. Later on, when he sees her he asks her if that’s her mother and aunts.

“No, those were my sisters. My mother’s portraits are in my father’s study.”

“You had sisters…” He says with shock, his voice trailing.

“I was the youngest,” she says wistfully.

“W-What happened to them?” He wonders, thinking of how she never spoke of them.

“I think you should move the bookcase,” she replies, ignoring his question.”I’ll go and start dinner.”

She kisses his cheek, leaving the room and leaving him alone with questions that keep stacking up. Soon dinner comes and his wife serves a vast meal. Her father starts digging in without a word. He spats out the chicken, glaring at her.

“It’s too dry,” he comments with irritation.

“Sorry Daddy,” she replies with shame. “Why don’t you try the mashed potatoes?”

“Where’s the gravy?” He asks, looking around the table.

“I think I forgot it,” she says, her tone apologetic.

“We’ll go get it then!” He orders and she nods obediently following his orders.

His wife leaves the room and he glares at his father-in-law.

“You could’ve politely asked her to get the gravy, sir.”

“Don’t tell me what to do in my own house.” His father-in-law responds, hitting his fist on the table. “You already stole my property and you’ve got the—“

“Property?” He repeats then disgust crosses his features as realization hits. “Are you talking about your daughter?”

“She’s not your property or mine or anyone's.” He continues and is met with a scoff.

Before his father-in-law could reply, his wife walks back in with the gravy boat in her hands.

“Here you go, Daddy,” she says, handing it over to him.

“I think we should leave,” Harold says, getting up from the table.

His father-in-law protests but his wife agrees. Once back in the inn, his wife breaks down saying things he couldn’t make sense of.

“You don’t know what he did to me and what he did to them,” she says while sobbing.

Then she whispers something in his ear. A plan. He leaves the room, contemplating it over in his head. Leaving the inn, he wonders if the fresh air will give him perspective. It doesn’t. His head is the one that does all the talking. His wife’s father was a monster and if he could help free her then he should.

The next day at dinner, he enacts her plan. She hands him a sharp knife that they pretend is simply for cutting their steaks but once handed over, he stabs her father deep in the chest.

He does not die. Instead, he laughs. His laughs become a howl and the man is transformed. His wife looks unsurprised but he cowers. Her father takes the knife out of his chest, pointing it at her.

“You’ll join them soon.”

“No!” She screams, grabbing the knife from his hand to plunge it inside him herself.

This time he turns to ashes. Harold hears the sound of something falling. Her bracelet. She goes to pick it up but her form changes to that of a wolf.

“Hon—” he starts but she growls. ”Bridget.”

He gets on his knees, holding his arms out for her. “You did it!”

She moves towards him and responds with a victorious howl.