I Am A Monster

I Am A Monster : Chapter 20

Chapter 20

"We need to get you to a doctor," says Kathy.
The thirteen-year-old girl, crouching by her side, nods, her face pale. The girl runs off and Kathy stays by my side, though I soon grow self-conscious.
I try to push myself into a sitting position. I feel so weak, so have just gotten here and already I'm lying on the floor. Speaking of all of this, and why it happened....
"Jones," I say.
"What?" asks Kathy.
"Bree Jones," I reply, looking into her eyes, "is my name."
"What...do you know what just happened?"
I squirm uncomfortably. "I...." I say, feeling my cheeks get warm.
"Never mind," says Kathy, seeing my discomfort.
"No," I interject. Maybe it's because she was so nice to me about all of this, and she's not trying to get into my business, that I'm making it easier for her. I decide that's it when the words find their way out of my mouth: "I...have these--visions. Of my past. That was of a different kind."
"Do you know anything about these visions?"
"No," I respond. "I woke up about two weeks ago with no memory of my past, of anything. Anytime something rung a bell, I'd be brought into a vision. When you asked me my last name, I wondered what it was, and so I had a vision, which showed me what it was. Same thing with my first name, and the fact that I'm a werewolf, and some things my parents taught me, and how they died...." I can't go on. I want curl into a ball and cry. I feel so hopeless and lost; just repeating it all makes me weak-kneed.
"Do you need help?" asks Kathy, waving her hand towards my two heavy books that are lying on the floor. I feel a rush of gratitude for her and am about to say yes, I would like her to help me, when the girl and an old-looking woman with gray hair and wire-rimmed, square glasses burst into the room.
"I see you are the victim," she said. I pull away. Her eyes study me, one an ocean blue, one a pale yellow the exact color that every werewolf gets in wolf form. "Bruised arms, bloody arm, and dark sword."
I grip my sword tightly with my right hand, eyeing her with suspicion.
"The sign of an angry spirit," she continues, not having noticed my hostile reactions. "Yes, so long since I've seen the symptoms...."
Kathy rolls her eyes, and the thirteen-year-old girl shoots her a warning look.
"But, my," says the doctor, her eyes widening dramatically, "why would you be using that sword? Why, it's full of dark magic!"
Her voice is croaky and strained, like a bullfrog choking on cotton candy.
"Dark magic?" I ask, skepticism in my voice. "I've been using this sword for--"
"Yes, dark magic. Full of it, I say, full of it! You are clearly not capable of wielding such a weapon--"
"Dr. Williams!" says the girl angrily, glaring at the so-called Dr. Williams furiously. "You were only supposed to help her, not criticize her!"
"But, my dear, the sword--" says Dr. Williams.
"You have no concern for it, neither do I or Kathy. It's Bree's. Just help her with her arm and bruises!" Even though the girl is trying to help me, I still don't know if I like her. She's so demanding and arrogant, but she tries, too. It gives me a headache.
"Very well," says Dr. Williams coldly. She turns towards me, her expression stone-faced. She is carrying a medical box, which she sets down on her side and pulls out some bandages, taking the bed sheets off of my arm and replacing it with the bandages. She then gives me some cream, tells me to put it on the bruises, shuts her case with an audible snap, and flounces out indignantly.
"I don't know how she got chosen for a doctor," mutters the girl. "Maybe it's because she wouldn't have been good for anything else. Only reason I brought her was because she was the only one available at the moment."
I ignore her, spreading the cream on my bruises like Dr. Williams said. I don't like her or care about her, but I decide to listen to her advice. She's a doctor, after all; though clearly not a very good one. My arm still hurts, but not as much as before. A thought occurs to me.
"What happens if my arm bleeds through the bandage?" I ask.
The thirteen-year-old girl laughs. "That never happens."
"What do you mean?"
She gives Kathy a look like, Can you believe her? Then she turns towards me, an amused half-smile on her face, clearly finding my question funny.
"It's magic," she explains with a smirk. Kathy shoots her an angry look, but the girl doesn't notice. "Every time it bleeds through, it magically changes itself. It only takes a second."
"So you do want to study now?" asks Kathy.
"Actually," says the girl, "I'm her guide. I was planning to give her a tour of the castle."
"Tour's canceled," says Kathy with a completely straight face, "so suck it up, deal with it, and let me help her study."
The girl shoots to her feet and says angrily to Kathy, "That's not your decision to make, mutt!"
Okay, so she clearly has some temper here.
"I'm not a mutt," says Kathy, giving the girl a withering look, "and a lot less than you are." She looks the girl up and down with a look of distaste.
"Get out!" screeches the girl. "I order you! Get out!"
"I don't take orders from you, Mimi. And I believe it's Bree's decision to make.
The so-called Mimi's face gets as red as a plum. She looks like she's trying to keep from stomping her foot, though her look is murderous.
"Get out!" Mimi repeats.
"No," says Kathy simply, crossing her arms and looking at Mimi with a look of contempt.
"She wants to go with me," says Mimi.
"I never said that!" I complain.
"So you want to go with the mutt? Nice choice of company, Bree. I'll be seeing you in the kennel in two days!"
And with that, she stomps out of the room and slams the door.
"What's with her?" I ask. "With all of the ordering? And the kennel?"
"Her idea of a joke," Kathy mutters darkly. "She's in line to be queen, but for now she's just a regular citizen like you and I. And you can believe she has a temper. No idea how she manages to pull it off, either, but her parents think she's just perfect. The kennel...well, she thinks that the kennel is for mutts. Like, lower folk. The word 'mutt' is like a curse. It means you're a dirty, lower wolf in the pack. Or castle...whatever."
"Why does she have a temper?" I ask.
"Rumor has it that two years ago she lost her sister. At first she was just like normal, and then...she sorta veered off track. Of course her parents saw her trying less, but they thought it was because of her sister. Then the behavior started. And they care too much about her. Like that's the real reason...." Her tone is surprisingly bitter. Then she looks up at me. "I'm whining. Sorry."
"It's fine," I say.
"So, where are you from?" she asks.
"Don't...please...." But it's too late. "Vision," I murmur, my words slurred, and I feel so annoyed and helpless that even in my vision my mood is not changed.
But then everything goes black and disappears in a burst of colors.