The Irony Of Being A Werewolf

~Chapter 44~

                                                                           ~Chapter 44~

               

                            After a few long moments of silence following the departure of my father, my mother got up as well and exited the room. The loud click that followed the door being closed told me that it was reinforced with a heavy lock. I had learned how to pick locks, but I hadn't mastered the skill well enough to get through what must be holding this door shut.

Glancing down at my wrists once again, I decided the only course of action I could take for now was getting through these bindings. A surge of energy rushed through me as claws replaced my nails and I set to work to cut through what held my wrists captive.

The material was thick, but if I worked on this long enough I was sure to make a hole. Once I made even the slightest hole, I could use that to rip the rest of the binding off my wrists.

I was forced to pause in my work to begrudgingly eat the food my mother gave me. As soon as I had finished everything on the plate, which consisted of rice and beans, my mother exited just as quietly as she had entered.

She only spoke once to tell me that she and my father would return later to initiate the first stage of my 'treatment'.

How exciting.

I couldn't help to wonder what this 'treatment' would include. They seemed to have tried everything last time they captured me. Perhaps they would go as far as to remove my tail, which was an essential part of being a wolf as it is used for communication and balance.

The thought made me shudder and increase my efforts to cut through the material. I could feel the material fraying and splitting apart underneath my claws. Not too much later did I feel joy overwhelm me as one of my claws made a small hole through the binding.

I eagerly stretched the hole out until it caused the binding to break in half. A sigh escaped me as I stretched out my sore wrist, hearing it crack as pressure was released from the previously still bones.

Wasting no more time, I quickly undid the rest of the bindings that trapped my body to the thin cot I was on.

My knees, which were used to my lack of movement, buckled when I stood up and I had to grab onto the cot to steady myself. Sticky material from the cot clung to my hand and I glanced down to see that it was covered in what looked like blood.

Tilting my chin down to look over my body, I saw that the paper gown I was wearing, an outfit my parents must have changed me into while I was unconscious, had droplets of blood on it as well.

After spending a few minutes searching for an open wound, I gave up and decided to deal with that issue later. Instead, I walked to the door and tried the handle, already knowing it was locked.

I paced the room several times, stretching my legs out and searching for any weapons or tools that could aid in my escape. All I found was a used plastic spoon.

Throwing it angrily against the wall, I whipped my head up to face the ceiling, desperate to see an air vent. The only thing above me were four narrow holes at each corner of the room with pipes extending out of them. I didn't have time to wonder what their purpose was.

"Shit!" I yelled, bringing my hand back before letting it ram into the concrete wall. Not one of my best ideas. In seconds I was on my knees, shaking out my throbbing hand. "Shit. Shit. Shit." My eyes burned with unshed tears.

The anger I felt towards them was incomparable but as much as I hated them for doing this to me, I hated myself even more for entertaining the thought that it would've been better for my parents to have been on that plane.