My dearest daughter Anna,

I’m sorry. I’m so incredibly sorry. I don’t deserve to be forgiven, and I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I just want you to know the truth before the stories start contorting, so that you hate me for the right reasons.

I assume I’m not going to be forgiven if I say, “I couldn’t help myself,” will I? While that is half true, it was my fault in the end. Or, should I say, the beginning. Do you remember that carnival I took you to? The dancing animals, the laughing clowns, the plethora of smiling children laughing and playing as they watched the incredible actions of those onstage. Do you remember the great big yellow tent, towering above you as you entered, that looked like it was greedily swallowing up all those who entered? How, outside that tent was an ocean of tents of all different bright, vibrant colours? They were all games, each one completely different, and more outrageous the further you went from the heart of the carnival. Do you remember, we went all the way to the very end, and partook in a rather perilous activity? You closed your eyes and turned away, I remember. I won’t torment you with the details, because they aren’t important, but I still have those burn marks on my lower thighs.

I  never told you why I did it. But I swear, it was to make you happy, Anna! If you beat one of those wretched games, you could go behind the tent and pet the animals. You didn’t know that I tortured myself to let you do it, and it broke my heart to see that you didn’t actually want to go back there. Was it how dingy and featureless it was back there, with only a ring covered in sawdust for the animals to lie in? Or was it seeing the managers whip the lions while they boasted about how they were the best circus around? Or was it how starved those animals looked, or how they fought desperately for small chunks of bread? You started to cry, and rushed into a corner. You spent your entire time back there, away from the rest of the group, where the ringleader was boasting about the lions, and rather just stroked a particularly raggedy wolf in the corner.

You didn’t know, my dear Anna, I should have told you, but wolves are feared by most people! Dangerous creatures. No matter how good things looked, I feared that you would be attacked, and then who knows what our neighbours would do to you, they’re a superstitious bunch, and you know it. So that’s why I pulled you away. And that’s why I ran away when the wolf attacked me.

I knew I must have been a disgrace in your eyes. I had scars all over my body, especially on my face- I couldn’t hide them, I would be outcast, Anna! They would take me away! Instead of returning, I stayed away, alone, with only my bitter hatred for company. What was I to do? With all of that fury seething just below the surface, while I hid in those dark, unwelcoming woods behind our town, my mind filled with savage thoughts, and once I saw that carnival that hurt us so much pulling away, I couldn’t hold those primal urges away. In truth, I most likely did not want to hold them back any longer.

I followed the carnival. They didn’t see me, and they never checked on their animals, so they didn’t notice as I killed them all one by one to eat on the way. I thought nobody would trust me, they would all think I was savage because of my scars, so why try anything else? Plus, it meant that I ruined the reputation of that carnival that upset you. They’re all gone now. I swear, I didn’t kill all of them, Anna- some of them were young, they didn’t deserve death! Those I did eat, well, I was feral, wasn’t I? Or, at least, people would think I was feral. I thought killing to eat would be easier than buying food, especially since I left most of my real possessions at the house. I assume that’s where you were for those long months? Anyway, I didn’t want to frighten you.

I sort of lost track of time after that. I mean, with nothing to keep track of, and no need for time living in the woods, I can’t remember if it was a week or months before I got lonely. All I remember was every single night, wherever I curled up to go to sleep, I feared for my life. No matter how safe it looked, I feared I would never wake up the next day. As my fears grew, I began to see a dark shadow in the corner of my eye, every night, just as I went to sleep. Some days I would wake up, wander the woods, and look. Was this how wild animals felt? It didn’t matter, for no matter how vivid that dark shadow looked, or how long I searched, there was never anybody there.

Of course, spending months without access to anything a normal person would have meant I, well, degraded, I guess you could say? My fingernails were long and filled with dirt, I had hair everywhere, a beard, but I doubt you would want to know that. I was absolutely wild by then. I kept telling myself that it was because I had to be, but sometimes a person would walk through the woods, and I would look at myself and think, ‘could I pass for one of them’? I was always afraid that those people would see me as those mysterious, black shadows in the night. But I had a tiny, niggling doubt, something that felt more human than the rest of me. Slowly, that small doubt grew bigger, and bigger, until I got up and went to approach a small family who were camping out in the woods. I wanted to try introducing myself like a normal person. How do they talk? “Hello, how are you?” I guess that’s what I would try. I swear, Anna, it didn’t begin with malicious intent. I walked up, about to offer one of my ugly, distorted hands in friendship, when a young child piped up, “Mummy, is that a wolf?”

I lost it. How dare that child, who knew nothing of this world, say I was unfit to enter it! In my blinded rage, I raised one of my hands, and raked my nails- I guess, by then, they were claws- down that child’s face. The rest was a blur. There was screaming, blood, and by the end, the foul stench of death. The young family of three’s cosy campsite was drenched with blood. What did I feel? After what that child said, I thought I would feel nothing, or perhaps hunger? Was I becoming that black shadow? No, I didn’t feel hunger. I felt horror. I was distraught with myself. Oh, Anna, that was the first time I had felt for a long, long time. I thought about the families, those distraught families of all those people and animals I had killed. I thought of you. What if that child had been you? He didn’t know any better, what was I thinking? I didn’t eat them, I left them, for them to find what I had done. I had a rough idea of where I was, I was sure I was close to where I lived. I didn’t know what I would find when I went home, but I would go, I would try to live a normal life, I would take care of myself, and I would be a person again. I wasn’t a wolf. I’m not a wolf. I’m a person. I’m not a wolf. Am I? I wasn’t certain anymore. All I remembered after that was that when I went to sleep, there were three more shadows, watching me, as I fell into an unconscious whirl of nightmares.

I wandered home, and saw a house that I remembered. I remembered that you were only eight when we last met, could you still be in the house? It hadn’t been that long, had you been able to care for yourself while I was gone? Or had they already taken you away? I knew I still had my key on me. I pulled it out, hand trembling- it had been a while since I had used my hands for something so delicate as handling this key, rusted by my time in the woods. I hoped it would still work in the lock. I sauntered my way up to the door- I heard noises from the other side. As I slid the old key into the lock, it made a loud scraping noise- whoever was there jumped at the noise. I was absolutely overjoyed to find that the key fit perfectly- after scraping off the rust. The door creaked open, and I entered our house. Our house, Anna! Do you know, how amazing it was to enter a house? Protection on every side of you, nothing able to attack, the overall cozy feeling? To not be surrounded by shadows every time you fall asleep? The polished, white walls, and the soft, violet carpet, the large paintings of the beaches you wanted to visit every summer, all felt more me than anything had in so, so long, Anna. I felt like I belonged, even though I looked like I should have been in that circus I slaughtered. What was even better, was looking around, and seeing things mostly the way I remembered them! Surely a wolf couldn’t feel this way, have these memories! Surely I belonged here! And you did too, Anna, and I felt certain, absolutely positive that my eight year old daughter must have been there, somewhere, my precious little girl was in this house. I just had to find her, and everything would go back to normal.

My heart sank when a woman, maybe about twenty, stuck her head around the corner with a bat. It wasn’t your house, someone else was here! For a second, I thought, wait, could that be Anna? But no, it was impossible, you had been eight when I last saw you. It had been months, not years! The last thing that decided it for me was the eyes. Those weren’t your eyes. They may have been the same, beautiful brown, but they had none of the warmth I got whenever you used to look at me. The was no hint of familiarity, no sign that you recognised me whatsoever. I was angry, so absolutely upset that somebody else had the audacity to come into our house! I tried to warn them off, but my voice hadn’t been used for so, so long that I just growled. The woman appeared shocked when I didn’t talk, and in her moment of weakness, I attacked. A seething mass of teeth and claws, a ripped for her neck. I would win back our house for you! As she began coughing blood, and starting moving in spasms,she attempted to stand up. She keeled over, vomited all over the floor, and then looked up, and said in a weak voice, “Dad?”

It was an older voice, but I heard that it was yours, Anna. Even after all those years, that had blinked by, I could hear your voice, every waking moment. I recognised that was your light brown hair, your beautiful eyes, and you who had attempted to keep this house just as I would remember it. I watched as you convulsed one last time, before your body sprawled over the carpet.

After recollecting my thoughts in this letter, it’s only now that I’m realising that you’re never going to read it, Anna. I’m going to finish it, anyway. It feels- right, I suppose. I’m going to leave let the shadows claim me. I’ll leave the letter here in your home as my confession, so that it is most definitely me who is blamed and convicted for the events that have gone on for the past years- I can’t remember how long- and maybe even prosecuted. Of course, I don’t care what they do to you. You can’t exactly punish an animal.


Regards,

Your absolute monster of a father.