Who am I?

What's happening?

3 o’clock arrived sooner than I would have liked. It was probably because I was dreading it. I stood in front of Mr. Pearson’s office door nervously. I didn’t like him very much, something about him scared me. I knocked on the door.

“Come in Charlie.” He called. I opened the door, his office was dark, save for a desk lamp that illuminated the papers he was grading.

“Sit.” He didn’t look up at me. I sat down obediently in the chair across from his desk, backpack at my feet.

“How much do you know about werewolves?” He asked, his eyes glinted maliciously in the lamplight. I gulped nervously, there was no way he could know. I hadn’t told a soul.

“Not much, just what’s in books.” I shrugged, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“Well, here’s some material for you to read. Folklore, if you will. This is all you’ll read while you’re in here, understood?” He slid a book across the desk to me. It looked old, bound in leather. I’d almost call it a research journal. I obliged and opened the book and began to read.

I glanced at the clock. 3:45, almost done. The book was very fascinating, but I couldn’t enjoy it or appreciate it because Mr. Pearson lept smirking at me as if he knew my secret. He got up and rounded the desk to grab something from the back of the room. I felt a stabbing pain in my left arm as he came back around the desk. I looked down and saw a deep 6 inch cut on my left forearm. He was going to find out. No. It hit me then, one of the worst pains I felt in my life. It was like the cut was on fire. I cried out, unable to hold it back any longer.

“Oh no. Did I get you, Charlie? Let me grab something to help stop the bleeding.” Mr. Pearson said, pulling a plastic container out of his desk. I couldn’t tell if he was being sincere. Why didn’t he just send me to the nurse? I looked down at my arm. It wasn’t healing yet. Why? What did he cut me with? I smelled something herbal. He had opened the container on his desk. Inside was gauze soaked in whatever that herbal scent was. He carefully picked up a larger piece, placing it on my cut and quickly wrapping a bandage around it.

“Thank you, Mr. Pearson. What did you cut me with?” I asked, the cool feeling of the bandage momentarily quenching the fire that was my cut.

“It’s a very old silver knife that I’ve been meaning to examine for some time.” He wiped my blood from the blade with a paper towel. I stood there, shocked. I didn’t know everything that came with being a werewolf, but I knew that silver was dangerous.

“You may go Ms. Bridger. Unless there was something else you wanted to tell me?” He said, not looking up from the knife. I shook my head and left.

Was it really an accident or was he trying to get information out of me about what I was? I thought about this as I drove to work. I stepped foot into the store when the pain in my arm exploded. It felt even worse than it had in Mr. Pearson’s office. What the hell did he put on my arm? I screamed and grabbed my arm, which made it worse. I made it over to the computer to clock in. As I was doing that, I felt someone standing beside me. It was Cole.

“What happened to you, Charlie?” He asked, clearly concerned.

“Nothing.” I lied. I didn’t need him asking any unnecessary questions. I gritted my teeth as another surge of pain washed through my arm.

“That doesn’t look like nothing. Why can I smell wolfs-bane?” He sniffed the air. I felt the color drain from my face. The pain was getting worse. I sat down on the floor, tears starting to fall from my eyes. Wolfs-bane was deadly to my kind. I needed to get it off me. Now. I needed to tell Cole my secret. He needed to help me get this off.

“Cole, I need to tell you something. Swear you won’t tell anyone?” I asked, indescribable pain still surging through my arm.

“If it’s that you’re a werewolf, I already know. I saw you shift last night while I was doing my nightly run. I am too.” He said as casually as if he were telling me the weather.

“Wait, what? There’s more than just me?” I was shocked.

“No time to answer that right now. We need to get this off of you before it kills you.” He started pulling the bandage off. He finally got to the gauze. It was soaked in blood. He grabbed a pen from the counter and started pushing it up from one end. It was excruciating. He finally got it off and saw the long cut, still unhealed. It looked awful, the skin around it starting to turn gray.

“I know what this is. When did you get cut with silver? Micah’s going to kill me.” Cole stared at my cut. It still burned. Wait, Micah’s going to kill him?

“We need to get you to the pack hospital now. This isn’t good.” He pulled me off the floor.

“Pack hospital?” I asked as he pulled me out to his car.

“Yes, pack hospital.” He repeated, pushing me into the passenger side of his car. He sped the entire way there. The pain was getting worse. It was spreading.

“Cole, is there such thing as silver poisoning?” I asked drowsily. Why am I tired?

“Yes. Micah, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.” Cole was frantically pulling me out of the car.

“Give her to me. What the hell happened Charlie?” Micah was also frantic and sounded far away. I felt being shifted to a different set of arms before I passed out.