Little Red Riding Hood 7/8

The sirens disappearing roused me as I woke up in a bed. And I tried to get up but my legs wouldn't work and I fell, and as the noise shook through the house I heard soft footsteps up the stairs.

The son opened the door. He was in his mid forties. A benevolent smile underneath the ragged mass of facial hair until he spoke and it twisted to a sneer. My own words wouldn't form. My tongue large, disobedient I'd been drugged by the monster's feral child.

"You hurt my daddy."

He smelled flowery, sweet.

It churned my insides.