Distorted

When I was well enough to stand, I used Christian’s phone to schedule an emergency appointment with Dr. Alder. She asked me to come in right away and I didn’t want to hesitate. When I hung up, I looked at Christian.

“This is probably the best thing right now,” he said softly. He left the bathroom and I followed. He was sitting on the bed, his hands on his lap. “Did you know Cassie well?”

“Yeah, she was a bitch,” I said, my eyes narrowing at the floor. Even though the girl was dead, I couldn’t help the anger that came from my words.

“She wasn’t exactly nice to people she deemed unpopular, but I hope you’re not glad she’s dead or anything like that.”

I sank down beside him, my shoulders hunched as I stared at the floor. “Christian,” I said in a low voice, “what if I—”

“No,” he said, putting his hand up. “You didn’t do this. You wouldn’t. You get sick even watching scary movies, so it’s not possible. Besides, I was here with you all night.”

“But then why are my dreams like this? It doesn’t make sense.”

He was silent. He had no answer and I understood what I was saying was ridiculous. I felt like two different people, then. Slowly, I stood up and walked to the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

I leaned against it for a few minutes before I went to the sink and stared into the mirror. I gazed at my tired reflection, into my eyes; the eyes of a wolf, a predator, and a possible killer. I closed them and shook my head, trying to clear it.

Christian was right. There was no way that I had killed anyone last night.

A knock on the door brought me out of my reverie.

“I’m almost ready,” I muttered, looking down at my damp clothes. I frowned.

“You want to borrow a shirt?” he asked. Something clanked against the doorknob. “It’s here if you want. You should at least change that.”

I turned and stared at the empty door, then opened it, slid my hand out and gripped the hanger. It was a solid black, short-sleeve and warm. When I was done putting it on, I tied my hair up and opened the door.

“Maybe Dr. Alder can help you,” Christian said as he took my hand and led me to the front of the house. “I’ll sit with you, too, so you’ll feel better.”

“Thank you,” I said as I stepped out into the cool air and got into his car. He slipped into the driver’s side and started the engine. “Hey,” I murmured, “who did you hear the news about Cassie from anyway?”

Christian frowned. “My friend’s dad is a cop. He found her.”

An uncomfortable silence fell between us as he drove. My head was a mess and all I wanted to do was go back to sleep, but even that was too dangerous.