Clinic of the Cursed

Chapter 3

The clinic’s fluorescent lights flickered, casting long shadows in the quiet halls. Abby pressed her hands against the cool countertop, breathing shallow and fast. The restless heat beneath her skin was growing—like wildfire trapped inside.

Tonight was the full moon.

Every nerve screamed to run, to escape, to transform. But Abby fought, biting her lip to hold back the change. Her feral nature was starting to affect her mood.

Mariel’s voice echoed softly from down the hall. “You okay, Abby?”

Abby forced a smile. “Just tired.”

But even as she said it, the familiar ache in her bones deepened.

In the break room, Gwen sat alone, her pale skin almost glowing in the dim light. She glanced up as Abby entered, eyes dark and unreadable.

“Moon’s coming,” Gwen said quietly. “You ready?”

Abby nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Outside, the sky darkened. The clinic, a haven for the cursed and the damned, braced itself for another night of secrets and shadows.

Abby slipped into the small, rarely used staff bathroom, locking the door behind her. The air inside felt heavy, thick with tension. Her hands trembled as she stared into the mirror, the reflection wavering between her usual self and something… wilder.

Her nails grew longer, sharper. A low growl rumbled in her throat, barely controlled.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the beast to retreat. Not now. Not here.

A sudden knock startled her.

“Abby? Are you okay?” Mariel’s voice, concerned.

“Yeah. Just… give me a minute,” Abby whispered, her voice rough, almost like a growl.

When she emerged, the full moon was just beginning to peek through the clinic’s windows, bathing the hallway in silvery light.

Meanwhile, down the hall, Lexy sat at her desk, surrounded by open books and glowing laptop screens.

“Werewolves, vampires, curses… this can’t be real,” she muttered, scrolling through ancient texts and folklore.

Her eyes landed on a passage describing a secret society that protected those cursed with supernatural gifts, disguised as ordinary people—just like the clinic staff.

Her heart pounded.

What if we’re all part of something bigger?

Gwen moved through the clinic with practiced ease, her steps as she walks in her silly socks are silent on the linoleum floors. The soft glow of the moonlight seemed to cling to her pale skin, casting an almost ethereal aura.

She avoided the windows, preferring the shadows where her true nature was hidden. As she passed the break room, she caught sight of a half-empty cup of coffee left on the table.

With a flick of her wrist, the mug shattered into pieces, the liquid evaporating instantly.

Later, when Lexy found Gwen staring out a window, the setting sun painting the sky orange and pink, she noticed the faintest wince on Gwen’s face.

“Too bright?” Lexy asked quietly.

Gwen turned, her eyes flashing a deep, unnatural red for a moment before settling back to their usual dark hue.

“Sunlight burns,” Gwen replied simply.

Lexy shivered, realizing the truth: Gwen was no ordinary medical assistant.

The clinic was a sanctuary — but also a cage for those who could never truly live in the daylight. The next morning, Room 17 was filled with an eerie stillness.

Harper sat calmly, her pale fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest, eyes watching every movement.

Lexy entered, clipboard in hand, but something about Harper’s presence made her hesitate.

“Good morning, Harper,” Lexy said, voice steady.

Harper smiled — a slow, deliberate curve that revealed those faintly pointed teeth again. “Good morning, Lexy. I’ve been... waiting.”

Abby appeared at the door, senses instantly on high alert.

“Waiting for what?” Abby asked, stepping closer.

Harper’s smile grew wider. “For the right moment to reveal what truly ails me. And perhaps, to change the fate of this clinic.”

Lexy’s breath hitched.

Change. Fate.

Words heavier than any diagnosis.

As Harper’s gaze locked with Abby’s, an unspoken challenge passed between them.

The Clinic of the Cursed was about to face a reckoning.

The air in Room 17 thickened, electric and sharp. Abby’s muscles tensed instinctively, the wolf inside her growling low, warning of danger.

Harper rose slowly from the chair, movements fluid and unnervingly graceful. Her eyes glowed faintly crimson, a stark contrast to Abby’s golden ones.

“You hide your power well,” Harper said softly, circling Abby like a predator sizing up her prey. “But I see it. The beast you try to control.”

Abby swallowed hard, claws flexing beneath her skin.

“I’m not here to hurt anyone,” Harper continued. “But the clinic... it’s holding you all back. Bound by rules made for humans.”

Lexy stepped forward, heart pounding. “What do you mean? What rules?”

Harper smiled — this time, no longer friendly, but dangerous. “You think this clinic protects you. But it imprisons you. The curse isn’t your enemy. It’s your gift.”

A sudden low growl escaped Abby’s throat. The full moon’s pull was too strong.

Dr. Dedeke appeared in the doorway, her eyes glowing faintly silver. “Enough.”

With a swift motion, she extended her hand, and Harper froze mid-step, caught in an invisible force.

“This is not the time for rebellion,” Dedeke said quietly, but her voice carried the weight of ancient power.

Harper’s smile faded into a glare. “The time is coming.”

The clinic’s silence shattered as Abby’s transformation began—fierce, uncontrollable, and inevitable.