Lone Girl (The Wolfling Saga) (20 page)

“I
was, as a barista. Just part time. Not anymore though, obviously.”

Doctor Kent scribbled in his notebook
some more. “You lived with your parents?”

“Until recently,” I said. “My parents couldn’t deal with what I am so – so here I am.” It was a half-truth.

“And what is your relationship with your parents like?” Despite the fact that Doctor Kent looked like a fat, fumbling imbecile, he knew just the right questions to ask.

“Strained,” I said honestly. “They blame me for their marriage failing.”

“Because of your illness?”

I noted that Doctor Kent referred to my condition as an illness. I’d always considered it an affliction, but Tom had scolded me, saying I should embrace it.

“Yes. Ever since the attack.”

“How old were you when you were attacked?”

“I was nine.”

“An awfully traumatic thing for a nine year old to go through,” Doctor Kent said. “How did that make you feel?”

I stared at him incredulously. “How did it make me feel? Well … angry, obviously. It ruined my life.”

Doctor Kent scrawled in his notebook. “And it ruined your parent’s marriage?”

“Apparently,” I said stiffly.

“Are you an only child, Rose?”

“As far as I know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, my parent’s screwed around a lot after the attack,” I waved it aside. “Never mind. I was joking.”

He scribbled in his notebook again.

“What are you writing?” I asked.

“My observations,” he said, looking back at me. “
Can you tell me about your earliest childhood memory?”

I frowned. “Well … everything before the attack is a bit of a blur … like it happened to someone else. I can’t be sure if I’m remembering my own childhood … or something I saw on T.V.”

“Do you often have trouble distinguishing between fantasy and reality?”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” I said. “I mean … I was a different person before the attack. A happy, normal child.”

“And now you are not happy?” Kent asked.

“I’m … I’m nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. Neutral. Void.” I shrugged. “Not depressed. Just … nothing.”

Doctor Kent pursed his lips and scribbled some more. Perhaps honesty wasn’t by greatest asset at this particular moment. I’d felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness since Tom had left me.

“Does that frighten you?” Doctor Kent asked. “Feeling nothing?”

“No.”

“Are you afraid of anything else?” he asked.

I considered his question for a moment, leaning back in my chair and looking out of the window. The grounds were deserted. “Yes,” I said. “The full moon.”

“How does it make you feel … losing control on the full moon?”

“Powerless,” I said, frowning slightly. “Dangerous.”

“Because you might harm someone?”

I wasn’t about to tell the psychiatrist that I’d accidentally killed someone during my last transformation. “Yeah.”

“Are you afraid to form relationships, romantic or otherwise, because of your illness?” Doctor Kent asked, leaning forwards on his elbows and watching me closely.

“Not afraid. I just find it difficult. The kids at school could tell I was different. They alienated me … called me names.”

“What names did they call you?”

I did not like talking about myself so much, I decided. “Wet dog,” I admitted. “Mutt, just to name a couple.”

“So you blame your illness for making it difficult to form relationships?”

“I guess.”

“Do you think you push people away to protect them from what you really are?”

I shrugged. “I don’t think I push people away. I didn’t push Tom away.”

“Thomas Stone, your former teach
er and lover, afflicted with the same condition?”

“Yup.”

“Do you think you were drawn to Thomas because he was the same as you?”

“Of course.”

“Is he the only other person affected with Lycanthropy you’ve met?”

“He’s the only other werewolf I know, yes.”

Doctor Kent smiled. “We try not to use that word here, Rose. Werewolves are creatures of myth. What we deal with here is science.”

He sounded like my mother; avoiding the truth.

“You would have spoken to Tom, right?” I asked. “Did he … has he mentioned me at all?”

“I’m sorry Rose, I cannot talk about my o
ther patients with you. Doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“Right … of course.”

“Tell me, Rose. What occupation would you have liked to pursue had you not been infected with Lycanthropy?”

“Well … I don’t see why I wouldn’t be able to pursue any occupation, regardless of whether I was infected,” I said slowly.
“It doesn’t make me any less competent.”

“So, what do you see yourself doing, then?”

I rubbed my arm, feeling rather self-conscious. “I – I liked to read a lot. English was my best subject.”

“The subject your lover taught.” It wasn’t a question; he stated a fact.

“Yes, but I was always first in the class before he taught at Halfway High.”

“And where did you see this interest in literature leading you?”

“I guess I hadn’t really thought about it. I mean … I wouldn’t mind being a proof-reader, editor, or maybe a writer. Perhaps journalism-”

“All occupations which would require you to attend university,” Doctor Kent said simply. I disliked what he implied.

“So? I could go to university if I wanted.”

“Without a high school diploma?”

I stared at him in silence, choosing best how to respond without seeming short tempered.

“William Faulkner didn’t have a high school diploma,” I said. “Neither did Mark Twain
. He didn’t even graduate elementary school.”

“Both
males,” Doctor Kent said, as though this was a reasonable argument. I was growing to dislike Doctor Kent with each passing minute.

“My point is you don’t need a formal education to be successful,” I said with a polite smile.

It was clear Doctor Kent disagreed with me, but he did not comment any further on the topic. “How do you sleep at night?”

“Usually in a bed.”

“No, I mean, do you have trouble sleeping? Do you oversleep? Do you have dreams? Nightmares?”

“I used to oversleep a lot
and I’d rarely dream.”

“But now?”
he pressed.

“
Now I lie awake for hours at night. I can’t seem to quiet my mind.”

“Is this a recent development?”

“Fairly. The few weeks or so.”

“Why do you think you are having trouble getting to sleep at night?” Doctor Kent asked.

I frowned. “Probably due to all the shit that’s happened to me … I guess it’s finally catching up. This … disease can take its toll on a person. Sometimes it defines who you are.”

“Do you ever get animalistic
urges when it’s not the full moon?”

“What, do you mean like peeing on trees and stuff?”

He didn’t laugh at my joke. No one ever did - except Tom. “No, I mean do you ever feel the urge to attack people, or even animals?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“What about during your ovulation cycle? Do you experience periods of heightened sexuality and the undeniable urge to mate?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re joking, right?”

“Not at all. It is quite common for women infected with Lycanthropy to seek out infected males whilst they are ovulating. Sometimes they even procreate with healthy males who are not infected with the disease.”

“
Healthy
males,” I scoffed. “You can be healthy and still be a werewolf.”

“How many sexual partners have you had, Rose?”

“That’s a little personal, don’t you think?”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. Over the years studying Lycanthropy I have found that infected men and women tend to be more sexually active and have many partners – sometimes even sharing. It’s not uncommon for the Alpha male to try and reproduce with as many female’s as possible. It’s all about passing on the strongest genes.”

“One,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’ve had
one
partner.”

Doctor Kent continued. “
What’s worse, infected males can smell an on-heat infected female from
miles
away.”

“That
I already knew.”

“Then you should know that rape cases amongst Lyc
anthropy sufferers are incredibly high.”

“
What
?”

“That’s right,” Doctor Kent nodded. “
Affected men will go to great lengths to find a fertile female, even taking her by force. Of course they can’t be blamed; the scent of the female is so strong that-”

“Bull. Shit,” I said slowly and clearly.

“I beg your pardon?” Doctor Kent blinked politely.

“Don’t give me that
‘they can’t help it’
bullshit. They know perfectly well what they’re doing and can control themselves if they want to. They’re just using it as an excuse.”

“When a
female is on-heat she produces hormones that the male can smell, making it impossible for him to-” Doctor Kent began to explain, but I didn’t want to hear any of it.

“No, no, no,” I interrupted.
“Not
impossible
. Do you hear yourself? You can’t blame it on the woman for getting raped. It’s
never
the victim’s fault.”

“I can see this is a touchy subject for you, Rose.”

“No, you’re just being sexist.”

Doctor Kent scribbled in his notebook, but I wasn’t interested in his psychoanalysis.

“Did Thomas Stone ever use force against you?”

“No,” I said. “He
always
respected me. We were often in close quarters together, too. In the classroom, in his car-” A lump formed in my throat as I recalled our last night together, when he’d taken me against the wall. He’d been frantic. Never the less, I’d always been a willing participant. “And he
never
touched me without my permission. If anything, I was the one who often lost control.”

“Would you say you’ve got a strong sexual appetite?” Doctor Kent asked.

“I don’t know,” I snapped. I wanted to change the subject. “How do
you
control ‘
animal instinct’
with a whole bunch infected people bundled up together in this facility?” I couldn’t keep the sass out of my tone.

“We have our ways of managing our patient’s urges.” Doctor Kent said

“Do you let the men take what they want because they ‘
can’t help it’
and blame the women afterwards?” My fingers formed air-quotes.

“We have never had a case of rape here,” said Kent, who seemed to be growing bored of my sarcastic attitude. He steered the conversation back to me.
“Have you acquired any heightened senses or special talents since you contracted the Lycanthropy disease?”

“You mean besides turning into a great dirty wolf every month?”

“Yes, besides that. Can you, say, heal faster than others, like your lover can?”

“Does it look like I can heal fast?” I said sarcastically, pointing to the gash on my forehead which I’d acquired from the truck accident.
“No, I have no special talents.”

“Do you think you h
ad an affair with your teacher because he was the only available mate for miles around?”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Well … no. I mean, of course I was
drawn
to him because of it. But I think we would have fallen in love, regardless of the affliction.”

Doctor Kent chuckled a little bit.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, feeling a pink flush creeping up my neck.

“Animals cannot fall in love the same way humans do, Rose.”

It took me every ounce of willpower I had not to jump across the desk and punch Doctor Kent in the face. “I beg to differ,” I said, my voice shaking with anger. “Dogs can love. Chimps, cows and penguins; they all form bonds for life.”

“Instinct is not the same as love, Rose.”

Stay calm
, I thought to myself.
He’s doing this on purpose. He’s provoking you to see if you react.
I tried to focus on my body, relaxing it onto a position that did not seem tense.

“Over the coming weeks I’d love to talk
to you more about your life, experiences and thoughts. I think there is a lot we can work through together to help you. Many of our patients find therapy extremely beneficial to their mental health.”