The Last She-Wolf

6_ Howling scream

I stared at Dylan, his eyes still filled with doubt, searching for any sign that might explain what was happening. I didn’t have the answers he wanted, but I could feel it deep inside me. My wolf was there, she had to be. The dog earlier, the way it cowered as if recognizing something within me, and the way my eyes had glowed, it was all proof.

"It's my wolf," I told him.

"Katrina," Dylan said, his voice firm but tinged with concern. "I thought we were over this. You’re human, not a wolf. That’s just not possible."

Bewildered, I looked at him. "You said you believed me," I reminded him.

"No, I said I was willing to work with your metaphor," he said.

"Metaphor?" I echoed, confused. What was he saying.

"Katrina..."

I clenched my fists, frustration bubbling inside me. He wasn’t listening, wasn’t trying to understand. "I’m not human, Dylan!" I shouted, my voice sharper than intended. "I feel her inside me. My wolf is there. She’s trying to come out, but something is stopping her."

Dylan ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. "Katrina, that doesn’t make sense. You’re human..."

I stepped closer to him, cutting him off. "If I’m human, then how can I hear your heartbeat right now?" I reached out, pressing my hand against his chest. "It’s racing. I can hear it, even without touching you."

Our eyes locked for a long moment, the air thick with tension. I could hear the steady thud of his heart quickening beneath my palm, the sound echoing in my ears like a drum. For a second, I thought maybe, just maybe, he would believe me. But then, just as quickly, he stepped back, pulling away from my touch.

"Katrina… this is crazy," he muttered, his gaze darting away from mine.

I felt a pang of hurt. Why couldn’t he trust me? Desperation clawed at me, and I knew I had to make him see, to show him the truth. "I can prove it," I said, my voice trembling. "You don’t believe me, but I can prove it."

He raised an eyebrow, skepticism clear in his expression. "How?"

I took a deep breath, focusing on my heightened senses. "Whisper something to yourself. I’ll stand over there," I pointed to the far side of the alley, "and I’ll repeat it back to you."

Dylan hesitated, clearly torn between humoring me and walking away. Finally, he nodded, his curiosity piqued. I walked a few feet away, turning my back to him, my ears straining to catch even the faintest sound.

After a moment, I heard his voice, so soft, barely a murmur. "This is ridiculous."

I smirked to myself, then turned around, meeting his gaze. "You said, ‘This is ridiculous.’"

His eyes widened in shock, his mouth hanging open. "How did you…?"

"I told you," I said softly, stepping closer again. "I’m not human. I’m a wolf, Dylan. I have a heightened sense of hearing and smell. That's how i found you the other day," I said, hoping this would convince him.

He stood there, speechless, his mind working to process what had just happened. For a long time, we stood in silence, the only sound between us the distant hum of the city. Finally, he shook his head, clearly overwhelmed. "We should go home," he said quietly, avoiding my gaze.

I nodded, feeling a heavy weight settle in my chest. I had proven my point, but somehow, I felt no victory. He still didn’t fully believe me, and that stung more than I cared to admit.

When we got home, the silence between us was palpable. Dylan mumbled something about going to bed and disappeared into his room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I felt so tired, tired of explaining, of defending myself, of trying to get him to see what I knew was true. As I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, I wished there was a way to show him, to make him believe without words. Eventually, exhaustion pulled me under, and I drifted into a restless sleep.

The next morning, I woke up feeling hollow, the events of the previous night lingering like a shadow. I showered and got dressed, following the now familiar routine. When I walked into the kitchen, I expected to see Dylan, but the room was empty. Where was he? Had he not woken up already?

My question was answered when I spotted a plate of food on the table, covered neatly. That proved he was awake. Was he in his room then? I walked to his room and opened the door, only to find it empty. My heart sank a little. He was always here in the mornings.

I couldn't help but feel something stirring inside me. Had I done something wrong? Was he avoiding me because of last night?
Was he upset?

As I looked around, my eyes fell on his desk, where his laptop sat open. Curiosity got the better of me, and I moved closer, staring at the dark screen. Dylan hadn't taught me how to use a laptop yet, but i remembered him showing it to me. I looked down at the many buttons and randomly touched one. The screen lit up, and my breath caught in my throat.

I saw what was displayed on the screen, images, research, all about werewolves. Dylan had been looking up everything he could about my kind. A flood of emotions washed over me, relief, surprise, hope. He was trying to understand. Maybe he was starting to believe me after all.

I wanted to know more, to see what else he had found, but I had no idea how to use the laptop. Frustrated, I left the room and returned to the living room.

I had no choice but to eat my breakfast alone. The silence was deafening. I had become so used to his questions and chatting during breakfast that it hurt eating all alone. After eating, I continued my usual routine, which was watching movies.

The rest of the day dragged by, and by evening, I was growing restless. Dylan still hadn’t come home, and with each passing hour, my worry grew.

By the time night fell, I had practically worn a path into the floor from pacing. Where was he? Why hadn’t he come back? I sat down on the couch, trying to calm my racing thoughts, but the anxiety gnawed at me. I was tempted to go out and find him, but then again, he didn't want me doing that. Not again. I waited and waited, but eventually, exhaustion claimed me again, and I fell asleep without realizing it.

I was dreaming. I could see a little girl laughing and playing with an older boy in the woods. There was joy, pure and innocent, but then everything changed. A loud sound shattered the peace, and the boy froze, his body stiffening. Suddenly, blood poured from his mouth, staining his chest, and the little girl screamed, a scream of pure terror and pain.

I woke up with a scream, my heart racing. The scream of the little girl still echoed in my ears. But as I blinked, trying to gather my bearings, I realized something was off. I wasn’t on the couch anymore. I was in bed, in my room.

How did I get here?

Before I could make sense of it, Dylan burst into the room, his eyes wide with concern. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with panic.

I nodded, still shaken. "I’m fine. I just… I had a bad dream." I couldn't help but feel happy that he was okay and he was back.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up with my scream," I quickly apologised

He stared at me, his expression unreadable. "Scream?" He asked, like it was his turn to be clueless. "You didn’t scream, Katrina."

I frowned, confused.

He looked at me weirdly. "You howled."

My heart stopped. I stared at him, my mind spinning.