My instinct said Don’t hit the cute baby deer, and it got me killed. What do they tell you? Swerve into the mountain? Away from the mountain? Don’t swerve? Hit the deer? I couldn’t remember, and I was a vegetarian, so I went on instinct. If I hadn’t tried to swerve and miss that deer, I wouldn’t have crashed my Jetta. I grabbed my head remembering the pain I had felt. The dark-skinned man that turned into a… a wolf, and attacked me. My mind flashed back to the scene, to last night. There were hardwood floors, a small bed and a dresser. Other than that bite mark, my skin was flawless. I pulled it up and traced my fingers along the white jagged scar that marked my belly. I had a t-shirt on and it smelled like him. I awoke sometime later and sat up, fully expecting to be sore or to have stitches all over my body bandages, a cast, something. Of the tall dark man that changed into a werewolf and ripped me to shreds with his teeth. The last thing I thought of before losing consciousness again was the memory of my body lying in the winding road that led to Mt.
Please survive,” his voice said aloud this time, and I felt a hand cup my face. The searing pain that burned on my abdomen threatened to make me go unconscious again. ‘You are a werewolf and you’re mine.’ My insides turned over at the mental invasion. That’s when a steely voice broke through my thoughts. I could feel my inner wolf lingering inside me, waiting to break the surface. But there was no denying what I was becoming. I couldn’t be a werewolf, I just couldn’t. As I lay there going in and out of consciousness, I laughed. To be on the brink of death, waiting for release from the pain, only to wake and find out I was a monster, an impossible thing, an animal.
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