The Protector

XL

Hopping, almost flying, down the steps after pulling myself together from a mid life crisis, I greet each individual I pass on the way to combat practice. It seems everyone is trying hard to be cheerful with me since I woke up, it continuously feels as though I'm a pessimist surrounded by optimists. Oh how things have changed since I was a kid. I was so upbeat and positive, then I grew up and life threw obstacle after obstacle at me.

However, as I bound down the last step, all of the movement makes me suddenly unsteady and shaky on my feet. I thought I was past this. Spouting some bullshit lies about drinking too much at once, I excuse myself politely from the crowd. I don't want my unexpected change in demeanour to concern them.

Finding my way inside the downstairs bathroom, I aggressively clutch onto the sink to regain balance. It's highly possible I didn't tell Luke the whole truth. There's a lot going on with me right now, things no one has any idea about because I've managed to keep it hidden.

Ever since waking up, I've felt plagued, like a disease is slowly winning against my immune system. A constant nausea has made daily activities difficult without risking motion sickness. Frequently, merely moving from mattress to shower causes me to spew up all of the contents left over in my body from the day before. Despite the fact that I'm eating more than ever, I never actually feel full. I'm not sure whether that is due to the sickness or part of the general problem itself.

My senses are constantly dialled up to a million, when the average would be twenty. I can hear every noise made in the house, from the rumbling stomachs to the gurgling of digestion; I can see every molecule moving around in the spaces in front of me; I can even smell every subtle body wash and ounce of blood in the building. When eating, I can identify every individual ingredient through taste, all the way down to dirt the wheat grew from. Sometimes, I'm able to ignore it all, except when the nausea hits. At those times, I can't do anything to stop the sensitivity.

Physically, I am permanently exhausted. I'm incapable of falling asleep due to the overwhelming senses keeping me up all night. Then, when I am finally out, the anxiety and nightmares startle me awake from the slither of peace I'm granted. There have been a handful of instances where I have genuinely fainted in the middle of a film with Lizzy. She typically pegs it to my laziness, except in reality, my body is too worn to continue functioning.

On top of that, I'm no longer in control of myself. The other night, I had to lock myself in the bunker for three hours because I simply couldn't control my phasing. Luckily, no one saw or heard me since it was three in the morning and the room is soundproof.

At first, it was just my skin continuously sprouting fur and my eyes or claws appearing then vanishing. It soon turned to changing into my full wolf form and back repeatedly until I was a sobbing disaster on the floor. My bones were snapping and reforming before cracking again to return to normal, every two minutes for two hours straight. Changing form takes a lot of strength and stamina on a normal day, doing it non stop for hours almost killed me.

For most of the night, my gums wouldn't stop bleeding from the canines retracting every millisecond. After the first five minutes, the friction caused the flesh to tear. At first it made the agony easier to bear until I started healing and the process repeated.

My eyes were like moisture-less rocks the entire night from the searing radiation from the fire in them, no matter how many times I closed them to try and build up some liquid. Because of that, my eyes were swollen for a couple of hours afterwards as though they'd been stung by nettles.

The cuticles surrounding my nails and claws wore away to blisters from the consistent irritation. They'd grow to the size of my massive wolf's claws so quickly that it was like running in trainers two sizes too big without socks.