"Ginger Snaps 4: Heavenless"
Somewhere in Bailey Downs, under the pouring rain, a car stops by the old greenhouse. The driver brushes aside her red hair with one hand and taps on the wheel with the other. She isn't sure if she is ready for this.
She wonders if there ever is a time that she can be ready for this.
Deciding to just cope, she steps out. The soft soil crunches under her boots, and she feels the weariness of the eight-hour drive roll off of her at the sight of this place.
"I'm home." She says, mostly to herself.
Somewhere in the north of Ontario, a long ways away from where the silent passenger ends her long journey at the steps of her dead home, a little girl runs across the treeline, feeling every sinew and muscle in her legs scream for her to stop. She can't stop, because the Beast won't stop.
She wants, as she always does, to narrate this event, to relate it to her invisible audience, and she is certain that this narration would appear in a speech bubble. Her audience will have to do with thought boxes instead, she thinks.
Her Reign of Moral Terror has ended before it ever begun.
Somewhere behind that little girl, close enough but not too close, far enough but never too far, the Beast feels her belly ache with hunger. It's a pulling pain that she feels drives her towards the most basic of impulses, and the lines are so blurred she doesn't distinguish behind them.
The only thing keeping her from pouncing on the prey and devouring it whole is the titillating feeling of the hunt itself.
She despises her prey so. She loves the hunt.