"Oh, no, my pet. This is just the beginning."

"He's coming, Mama."

The words were barely above a whisper and Drusilla gathered the bedsheets to her chest as she spoke, staring at the open window. A gaping hole, letting the night pour in. Swallowing up the light. Just like a mouth. Big and black and hungry. So very hungry.

"Who, sweetheart? Who's coming?"

Her mother set the candle down on the bedside table, reaching for her daughter's hand. Her skin was cold and clammy, worn from years of honest work and diligent prayer. Drusilla snatched her hand away immediately.

"The Beast! He's waiting in the darkness. Waiting for me."

"Drusilla! You shouldn't say such wicked things!"

No, she shouldn't. Mama was right and Drusilla was wrong. Bad and wrong and wicked.

But not as wicked as the Beast. Not yet.

"He's a hunter. Like a cat. I'm just a mouse. Just a little mouse."

"Drusilla, stop this."

Her mother sounds frightened, but she isn't frightened of the Beast. She believes in him, of course, and prays to God every day to make sure he delivers from her family from his evil clutches. She believes, but she doesn't understand. She's frightened of her own daughter. She doesn't know what Drusilla has seen. She doesn't know what is really lurking in the darkness.

With a whimper, Drusilla rolls over, burying her face in her pillow.

After a moment of heavy silence, her mother reaches out and strokes her hair.

"Run and catch, run and catch," she sings softly.

"The lamb is caught in the blackberry patch," Drusilla whispers.

She knows that outside, in the darkness, the Beast is waiting.

Prompt: Cat and Mouse
Word Count: 268