Rhythms of the Wild

Chapter 7: Bite Me

The buzzing is the first thing I notice, a low, angry vibration slicing through the darkness. Then the smell of antiseptic hits, sharp and cold in my nose.

My body feels wrong. Heavy. Distant. Numb. Why am I numb everywhere? It’s dark. Too dark. My mouth is dry. Why can’t I see? Panic claws up my throat. The rapid beeping beside me spikes, each shrill note sending pain exploding behind my eyes. Something tightens around my hand, warm, familiar. Then Charlie’s scream rips through the blackness. “Help! I need help in here!” The pressure around my hand disappears. Small footsteps pound away. More voices now, shouting, each word a bolt of lightning in my skull. I try to move. Even a finger. A twitch. Anything. Nothing. Nothing responds. Oh Goddess… am I paralyzed? Am I blind?

Charlie? Charlie, are you really here? Where is here? My heartbeat surges, outpacing the machines, as new footsteps rush into the room. “Don’t panic, dear. You’re safe,” a woman whispers beside me, soft voice but unfamiliar presence. Safe. Right.

How can I be safe when I can’t see, can’t move, can’t even feel my own body? “I’m going to push a dose of Valium. This will help her settle.” “Thank you,” Charlie whispers, her voice cracking. Pressure wraps around my hand again, anchoring me to the last sliver of reality I still have. Time dissolves. Minutes or hours blur into the steady beeping and Charlie’s soft snoring beside my bed. At some point, I drift off to the sound of her breathing. When I wake, it’s to silence. I try again, a twitch, a plea for movement, a miracle.

Nothing. How long have I been like this? It must have taken Charlie four days to get here, longer if our father and the she-demon fought her on leaving. Am I even being bathed? Goddess, I hope so. Otherwise I probably smell like a dumpster. A knock breaks the quiet. I try to form words, but nothing escapes. The door clicks open. “Sam, you have got to wake up. I can’t handle all of this without you.” Erin’s voice is thin, sleep deprived, and aching. “I mean it! I’m begging you. Nola is so sorry. She didn’t mean to make you fall. We would never want to hurt you.” The bed dips as she sits beside me, her fingers brushing my cheek. “I can’t believe he took it this far. We didn’t kill him, Sam, but between a lamp swung by an All-Star that cracked his skull and me almost ripping his jugular out… he was down for fifteen days before he finally spoke.” Fifteen days? How long have I been trapped like this? Who is he? I want to scream. Darkness swallows me again. Music pulls me back, soft and familiar. “Dirty Paws” by Of Monsters and Men, barely above a whisper. A laugh slips out before I can stop it. How appropriate. Wolves writing songs for wolves. A sharp inhale comes from nearby. “Sam, can you hear me?” “Yes,” I croak, the word scraping out like gravel. “Squeeze my hand.” A hand wraps around mine, and I squeeze with everything I have, sparks shooting up my arm. “Thank the Goddess,” Darren breathes. “Water,” I croak. “I’ll be right back!” Footsteps bolt away. Relief floods me. Blindness... yeah, it would suck, but I could adjust if I had to. Being a helpless shell while everyone I love hovers, worries and I miss their lives? That, I couldn’t survive. I test my feet. A shuffle under the blanket, movement.

Another laugh bubbles out of me. Then something cold shifts down my throat. Instinctively, my hand flies upward. My fingers catch on a thin rope like tube protruding from my nose. I pull. Instant regret. Sweat beads pop across my forehead. I gag as it keeps coming, longer, longer until it finally slips free. "Ew. Just… ew." “Sam!” Charlie’s sweet voice rings out. “Char,” I rasp, her name catching in my dry throat. “Oh baby, it’s okay. Let’s sit you up a bit. I brought a cup of water.” The bed whirs as it adjusts, lifting me slowly. “Drink slow. It’s a straw.” I open my lips and sip. The water is glorious, cold and fresh, disappearing instantly into the desert of my mouth and throat. I must drink too fast because she pulls it back. “Slow. We’re going to take this all slow.” “Okay,” I breathe, taking another small sip before letting the straw fall away. “I see you took your gavage out,” she tsked. “No more ripping things out or off of you, do you hear me? Everything here is to help you get better. Let them help you... and your hard head.” “Charlie…” My voice cracks. “I can’t see. Everything is just darkness.” I whisper, fighting tears. “I know, sis.” Her voice wobbles. “When you fell..” She pauses, steadying herself. “When you fell, you hit your head pretty bad. There was a deep laceration from the granite countertop, and then the floor impact… it caused catastrophic swelling in your occipital lobe. That’s what controls your vision. If you were human, the medicine wouldn’t have been enough on its own. Thank the Goddess your wolf is getting stronger. As time passes, the swelling is going down, but it’s just going to take time. We can get through this, okay?” I take a shaky moment, then nod. “It’s okay. I’m going to be okay.” Right on cue, Etta James pours through the speaker—“I’d Rather Go Blind.” “Yeahhh, yeaaah, I’d rather be blind, boy, than to see you walk awayyy…” I belt, off key and way too loud. Charlie snorts.

“I didn’t even realize that was playing. I’m conflicted, I want to laugh, but I also feel like I should’ve noticed and changed it.” I giggle. “Laugh, Charlie. We’ll take it where we can get it for a while.” I reach out, hand flopping like a fish until I find hers and squeeze. A deep chuckle rumbles from the doorway. I go still, deer in headlights style. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the music, little wolf,” Darren says. I freeze.

Oh my Goddess. Heat licks up my face. Great, now I’m a blind tomato. He heard me belt out like a dying ostrich. If the bed swallowed me whole, I’d thank it. “It’s okay, Sam,” he chuckles. “I’ll be back later.” His deep voice soothes something in my soul. “Charlie…” I whisper once his footsteps fade. “Yeah?” Her voice is bright with amusement. “How long was he there?” Embarrassment and irritation braid together. She bursts out laughing. “The whole time I’ve been here.” I click my teeth at her. “I’m going to bite you.” She howls harder, snorting between laughs. “Oh, that was amazing.” Our laughter fades. “Charlie, I need help.” I feel her shift closer.

“What is it?!” Worry sharpens her voice. “It’s okay,” I say, squeezing her hand. “I just really want a shower. Can you help me?” She sighs, a breath of tension leaving her.

“Of course I can.” Another squeeze. “Let me get the water started, then I’ll help you in. We just have to be careful not to pull your IV lines out. But i can close them off and unhook you while you shower.” “Thank you!” I say as I hear her open a door. I wiggle with excitement as the water clicks on. She comes back; something rattles and squeaks as it’s rolled beside me.

“Okay, I’m going to clamp off your IV lines and then we’ll get you up.” She goes to work closing off the long tubing, unhooking me from my IV line and taping up it up so I couldnt pull on it. “Okay, let’s get you up.” She grabs my legs and slides them to the side of the bed. Then her hands close around mine, pulling me to my feet. I wobble. She circles to my side, bracing me with my arm around her shoulders. She sniffs. “A shower was a good idea… sheew wee,” she laughs.

“Oh, bite me,” I huff in fake anger and snort back. The sound of squeaking follows us.