she reminds him of somebody. couldnât ever place who â never had enough exposure to her to place, exactly, who. had toâve been somebody believed in the good of men. somebody believed in healing. every time heâs seen her, itâs ate at him; heâs searched a million memories squashed down with his boot: dug and dug until he found something that hurt so much he had to stop trying. wanted to remember. couldnât remember. couldnât get a proper scent on her.
it hits him when she stands in his doorway, her small fist closed around the handle of an icebox that looks about half a lifetime too old to function. the beastâs eyes are bloodshot with lack of sleep. they havenât given him a perch, and the first time heâd dug his claws into the foam lining of the ceiling, ruthâd just about had his head for it. thought he was being malicious, didnât seem to understand that heâs got this â this urge to be up. always gotta be up. up was safe; no one ever looked up. no. ruth hadnât understood, so what rest he has gotten was in a corner, tight-jointed and painfully crouched. ainât his house, so he donât feel right laying down. hasnât stretched, hasnât decompressed his back. the smell in here is terrible.Â
and susanâs still there, talking sweet to him, smile on her face â like theyâre friendly.  she donât hold no fear of you, no fear of you, no fear âŚ
[ INT. MEDICAL WARD - OLD WEST - GOLD-MINING TOWN - NIGHT. ]
It is a moonless evening, all darkness filtering in through glassless windows. A TALL MAN lies alone on a bed of knots and straw. We can only see him from behind. His clothes, black as coal and partly shredded, do not betray his injuries â but a white blood-soaked linen clings to a mural of shrapnel littering the space between his shoulderblades. Â
[ EXT. ROADVIEW (LONG) - OLD WEST - GOLD-MINING TOWN - NIGHT. ]
THE OLD SALOON SMOULDERS DOWN THE STREET. It is in ruin. WE ZOOM TO FOCUS ON THE WRECKAGE. A few men pick through the ashes, but they donât find much. Bone and empty shell.
[ INT. MEDICAL WARD - OLD WEST - GOLD-MINING TOWN - NIGHT. ]
A PRETTY, YOUNG WOMAN enters the dusty red excuse for a hospital. She is in nurseâs garb â as close to white and uniform as her wardrobeâd allow, the collar high and the skirts low, cap covering hair, socks covering skin. She sits by the tall man, who groans in response. While he doesnât stand, or even sit upright, the shot of them together shows us that he dwarfs her by comparison. Her tiny hand enters his mane of hair, and after a moment, we hear him start to snore.
susan, all grey and pink and pastel. all gentle. but sheâs seen hell, he knows â can smell it on her â and in spite of himself, he goes lax. those lashes sweeping over his eyes are too long, those eyes too pretty to belong to a thing like him. Â
the creeper stretches, lazy cat, and rolls onto his back. shows her his belly with a trumpeting sound. his jaw hangs open, when he looks at her: pleading. he can feel the stab of pain below his ribs. is he desperate? is he lonely? is he actually glad for the company? whoâs to say â heâll only say one thing, one thing. the one thing his brain will let him think.
  Some monster, Susan muses. Not because she looks down on him, or because she has any doubt of what heâs capable of, but because of how heâd greeted her. No hissing, no spitting, no threats or hostility; just a frightened, hungry creature asking for his meal. And even if he had greeted her with anger, Susan would have understood. For all the trouble heâs caused, she doesnât think this is the solution for getting him to behave â or, more importantly, getting him to trust them. You canât punish someone without first explaining what theyâve done wrong, or else they wonât recognize the action as punishment in the first place. ( âBecause I said so, Susan,â are words that still ring in her ears to this day. )
  The last thing this man needs is reason to believe theyâre hurting him for the fun of it, and as much as she respects her mother, Susan knows Ruthâs patience with this entire situation has been worn thin. Between the the rescue of Belial Bradley, the stress of trying to keep an entire household calm and Belialâs subsequent injuries at the hands of his captor, Ruth doesnât much have sympathy or understanding to spare. And thatâs where Susan comes in.
  âItâs alright, Iâve got exactly what you need,â she soothes. Carefully setting the handle of the cooler down on the ground, Susan kneels to undo the cable lock, then the latches of the cooler itself. Meets the eyes of the beast â intelligent eyes. Human eyes, both figuratively and literally. Perhaps at one point theyâd been wild, glazed over with bloodlust and fury, but Susan does not see that now. Does not recognize a wild animal staring back at her. She gives him a simple nod, opening the lid and pushing the insulated container towards him. Right there, sitting atop a pile of ice, is a freshly-acquired liver.
  âWe saw that yours is failing,â is all Susan says. She steps back, sure to keep a wide berth between the Creeper and herself. Heâll surely be excited by his feast, and heâs much bigger than her â not to mention that massive wing still attached to his back. Susanâs been knocked over enough times to know when and how to avoid it by now. âSo Granny Ruth had that ordered right away.â
  She does care about you, she wants so badly to tell him. She may not like you very much right now, but she does care about you.
  âI know youâve been very sick. This may not fix everything immediately, but trust when I say itâll make a difference.â