I don’t come to all at once. My consciousness drifts in and out of focus. Or rather, my focus shifts between awake and asleep. Although I can’t say for sure if I even achieved pure alertness or complete sleep at all during those unknown hours.

When I was asleep, I was talking to someone, either myself or maybe Fintan? But who it was or what was said is forgotten when I wake. All that remains is a worry of sorts. The reason is lost. I have a feeling I should leave, that I’m not safe. At one point, I even try to get up, but I’m too weak to even lift my arms, and the exertion only knocks me out again.

This lethargic urgency continues until I come back to myself. Alert and fully present at last. My full awakening is slow and plagued with foggy and quickly fading memories of someone trying to talk to me. The memory disappears once I’m completely awake, and only the knowledge of it, and the misplaced fear, remains. Because of this I don’t open my eyes right away. Something else, other than these memories, is making me feel uneasy.

Although my eyes are closed, I can somehow sense my surroundings with surprising accuracy. It’s like I have sonar or something. I’m in a recovery room, a small comfy one with no bedmates. There’s a heart monitoring machine beside me, like the one in the ambulance, but with an IV that I’m attached to. I can feel the needle in my hand and hear the beeping from these machines, and something else too.

Muttering. Male voices. I immediately know it’s my killers’ voices, as surely as I know there is a scalpel conveniently on the tray beside me. It’s practically calling out to me. I don’t have the energy to wonder why I know these things. I guess crazy shit is just going to be normal from now on.

“But what are we supposed t-”

“Shh! She’s awake.”

“No, she isn’t. Now stop changing the subject!”

“I said be quiet!”

I grab the scalpel and open my eyes in the same instant. The room spins and I almost lose my grip on my weapon, but I use both hands to hold it still in front of me. When my vision settles, I can finally see them clearly. Well, almost clearly.

They both have the same fog covering their faces Mr. Spencer had. They haven’t moved and even if I can’t see their faces yet, I can see I was right before. They’re not any older than me. Ginger Freak, or should I call him Mr. Wolf? Whatever, he even has a letterman jacket from the same school I know Stupid Boy David attends. David has his prep school uniform on, with the same logo on the lapel, and he’s ditched his leather jacket.

Faker. Guess they had to change out of their bloody clothes.

They had both looked like unusually beautiful people when I was dying in that ally, just like all of them do, but looking at them now, I realize that wasn’t the case. Never was. Not for any of them. It was their eyes.

I’ve figured it out now that the blurriness is fading much more quickly than with the Invading Treasurer. Their eyes are the first to show themselves, so whatever magic makes this ‘glamour’ Mr. Spencer talked about is in their eyes.

And I can sense it, suddenly. There’s a light that isn’t a light. I mean, it’s not like they glow or anything kitschy like that but…ugh, I can’t explain it. It’s like they radiate something, and it covers up any flaw. It’s not like they’re unattractive or anything, they don’t have many flaws to cover to be honest, but their faces are only normal-hot, not superhuman-hot.

Part of the ‘flaws’ it covers is the effects of their Shifter race. At least I think they’re effects. Apparently, Shifters don’t look as normal in their regular forms as people have been led to believe. So they hide themselves with glamour to appear more human? Why can’t Variants do the same thing? Is there too much to cover up in their case?

Stupid Boy’s skin is as pasty white as his dad’s, he has the same black veins around the edges of his eyes and mouth, but there’s not as many and they’re more grey than black. And those prominent cheekbones of Mr. Wolf? They’re more jutting than prominent. As are his brows. Whatever charm they’d been using previously has no effect now. I see them how they really are: normal. Or, the new normal, anyway. Even equal.

Yes, I have this weird feeling of equality. That anxiety I used to feel when looking at them is gone.

They haven’t made a single movement during our staring match other than steal nervous glances at each other, but it’s not like I’d ever trust them. “Stay back.” I wave the scalpel for more impact. My arms are already feeling sore, but I fight through it. I’m calm, and I don’t know why. There’s a rage beneath the surface, sure, but this feels almost easy. I guess I’ve been preparing myself for it since this all started?

Mr. Wolf takes a step forward. Like we’re all playing a game of ‘What Time Is It, Mr. Wolf?’ But this is not a game.

“Listen girl, we don’t want any trouble-”

God, he is such a punk wannabe. Keep testing me, I’ll show you what a real punk is you pampered pooch.

And who the fuck visits an infirm person without bringing flowers anyway? A-holes, that’s who. Like seriously, are you fucking kidding me right now?

“Stay back or I will slit your fucking throat you stupid dog!” My anger boils over for a moment and I make slashing motions until he growls and backs away to the edge of the bed. His growl isn’t even remotely human sounding; he really is a wolf. “I will put you down, I swear to god.” Come to think of it, I have been doing a lot of swearing to god today. Sorry imaginary dude in the sky, it’s just one of those days…

Mr. Wolf grabs his friend’s shoulder. His ginger curls are all a mess and I wonder if he turns into a ginger wolf. Wait, oh my gosh, I’ve just come up with the perfect name for him. Clifford. Clifford the Big Red Dog. I force myself not to laugh. This really isn’t the time or place, after all.

“Did you hear her? Did you hear what she called me?”

You should hear what I call you in my head.

“Well, you did kill her, Zeke.”

What kind of name is Zeke? Clifford is way better.

“Still, that is way out of line! How does this bumpkin not know even that?”

Okay enough of this. “No, you’re out of line you freak.” My throat is killing me. I really wish they’d leave so I can stop talking. “What are you even doing here? Come to finish the job? Because it won’t be as easy as you think.” I mean, it probably would be, but I’m not going to tell them that.

“What? No, we-”

“You sure? You’re looking mighty pale, there. Didn’t drink enough at the crime scene?” David visibly flinches and Clifford, or Zeke I guess, snarls. “Put a leash on it, Wolfy.”

“Listen, we just-” Stupid Boy regains some semblance of composure and again thinks he can be in charge of this conversation. Fat chance.

“You’ve come to confess to that cop for me then, eh?”

“Ah, yeah, about that…”

“Oh, just shut up.” I don’t lower my weapon, but I lean back. I’m annoyed. Angry. “If you’re not going to be useful then get out of here, David Spencer.”

The moment I say his full name the atmosphere changes and David glares at me. It’s the first time I truly notice it. I’d felt it briefly in the ambulance and the hallway. The combined panic and fear of those places had affected me. It…entered me. And now, here, there is fear again. But it’s different this time. I’m alive, and they are enemies. Their fear enters me. I can feel it like a static in the air. I feel energized, not weakened.

“How do you know my name? Who told you my name?”

Wow, he suddenly got all defensive, didn’t he? Mhm, sometimes the best attacks are psychological. I don’t even have to cut him with my scalpel.

“Daddy dearest.” I smirk as his face turns to horror.

Nothing like his father, this one. He can’t hide his emotions worth shit. I take sick pleasure in it. I can feel his fear in the room, it’s so potent I can practically taste it and I’m immediately elated. It’s a rush. It’s like I’m high. Like I’m sitting on top of the world like it’s one of Mr. Teurney’s precious globes.

No, it’s better than being high. Pot doesn’t agree with me, but this… this does.

Clifford whines. Like a wounded dog. He’s scared too, but for the first time I realize he’s been terrified this whole time. From the very beginning when he first saw it wasn’t David’s throat he had slashed. What a wuss.

And also, if these guys are friends why are they going around slashing each other? They mentioned some sort of ‘test,’ but really, what was that even about?

“Oh dude, your old man was here. We are so dead. I bet Owens already knows.”

“I don’t know who this ‘Owens’ person is, but your dad is not happy. And I am not happy.”

David sighs, running his hand through his hair. It’s dark blond unlike his dad’s dusty brown. The similarities truly end with their accent, and their skin. Well, they both have roman-statue-noses too. I guess I can see some resemblance. But I still think he must take after his mom.

“Look, we only came here to explain to you that you can’t…explain what happened to anyone. You can’t tell the cops anything. Things like this are handled differently, and I’m not sure what they’re trying to do, so it’d be best if-”

“Yeah, I bet that would be really bad for you.” I say, rolling my eyes. “I bet that would go over really well, wouldn’t it? ‘Hello Cop Man, I know it looks like a wolf attacked me, but it was actually that guy over there because he is a wolf. Surprise! You can arrest him now.’ Are you both, like, clinically insane?”

“No.”

“So you think I’m stupid?”

“N-no we just-”

David is really struggling here. Take a breath you loser, you only killed a person.

He finally gets his voice back. “So you know it’d be bad for you too. They could call you crazy and lock you up?”

“Of course, I know. I know exactly what they’ll try and do to me. You evil monsters have been waiting for an opportunity like this ever since my mom and I got here. This whole thing was probably orchestrated by you freaks in order to get rid of me. You think I’m going to make it easy for them to violate even more of my rights?”

“Uh…”

“Um…”

“I have no intention of telling the cops anything. They’re the ones who owe me the explanation. And I’m not doing diddly squat for them until they do. Besides, I have a feeling your dad will be punishment enough.”

Again with the horror face. I can’t stop myself from grinning. His face is so calm until I mention daddy. He sees this and squints at me, almost looks like he’s going to ask me something, thinks better of it, and instead walks towards the door. That’s right, fuck off.

“We said what we came to say. People are going to notice she’s awake, we should go.”

Zeke looks at me indecisively. I waggle the scalpel again. “Go follow your master, boy. Go on, go on boy!”

I enjoy the reaction I get from the dog thing.

“Bitch.” He stomps out of the room.

Then, in the hallway, in gradually faded voices…

“Ouch! What? It’s not like she really died or anything, ow!”

Good riddance. I’m exhausted and about to lay back down again but of course a nurse happens to walk by and see me sitting up and holding a scalpel.

Probably not the best way to let everyone know I’m awake.

Within moments there are two nurses and a doctor in the room. One of the nurses forces me to lie down while the other takes the scalpel from me. I don’t fight her on it. My killers have left, anyway.

The doctor is Asian and he’s not one I recognize, even though I thought I knew them all, but other than being new he’s fairly unextraordinary. Or perhaps I just don’t feel strong enough to take a closer look at him to find something interesting. I don’t know.

He feels my free wrist and listens to my breathing with his stethoscope. His hands are cold. Like really cold. Do I have a fever or something?

“How do you feel?”

“Tired.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“Hell?” He doesn’t laugh. “The hospital.” Killjoy.

“Do you remember what happened to you?”

“Not really.”

“Okay, then what’s the last thing you remember?”

“A wolf.”

I can tell they don’t believe that’s all I know. The nurses all frown but he nods anyway. I don’t know why they don’t believe me, because technically I’m not lying. The last thing I saw was a wolf. They’re just mad I’m not playing into their hands.

“Your mother is around. Do you want to see her?”

Oh god, my mom. “Yes, please.” My poor mom. “I want to see her.” And I do, but I’m also afraid to see her. What will I say?

The doctor nods again. “Nancy, will you go and fetch Miss Lowe? Rachel, you can go, we’re good here.”

The nurses leave, and the feeling of the room quickly changes. Like it did with my killers when I mentioned David’s last name, which I shouldn’t have known. I never noticed before how emotions affect the air, or just the feeling in a room. Did they always? Or am I going mad?

But their fear made the room energized- it made me energized. Like I was hopped up on adrenaline or something. And now, alone with a doctor who doesn’t look so ordinary anymore, the room seems colder, and I have a feeling that all is not good here.

The air has a chill and I struggle not to shake as the guy takes my other wrist in his hand, the bandaged one, and I remember my wrist is bandaged just like my neck. That’s right, there was a wolf, and there was also pain there when Stupid Boy brought it to his mouth.

“What…what happened to my wrist?”

It’s such a massive bandage. Although there was pain at that time, I don’t remember the wound being that big or anything.

“I was hoping you could tell me.” He smiles but it isn’t a kind smile. It’s devoid of all warmth a smile should have. Just like Spencer’s. I don’t think I have a fever. This is obviously a maniacal Ice Doctor.

“I already told you I don’t know anything.”

“I’m not sure if the cop sitting outside will agree with you on that.” The way says ‘cop’ makes me cringe as I remember I still need to have a conversation with the man from the ambulance. The one who made me die of fright without even seeing his face…

He peeks under my bandage and looks angry. “It might be better if you told me the truth.” He looks at me in what I can only assume is supposed to be a comforting way, but it’s not, and pats my shoulder. “Then maybe I could help you.”

“Who are you?” I hug my wrist to my chest and scowl. We stare at each other for what feels like a long time but neither of us will budge or blink.

“Like I said, maybe I can help you. Like I did with the scalpel.”

“Wait…you left that scalpel there? Why?”

He says nothing. He’s just staring at me with that fake ass smile on his stupid face.

“I said, why did y-?”

“Kara?”

My mother’s voice breaks our trance and I sit up and the room feels normal again. Her voice cuts through the ice and her warmth reaches me and I know everything will be okay. At least for now.

“Mom?”

“Oh Kara, oh my god!” She runs over and hugs me as tight as the cast around my neck will allow. I stare at the doctor over her shoulder. He smiles smugly and leaves.

“Oh dear, where did the doctor go? I wanted to ask him some questions.” She walks to the doorway frantically.

“Don’t worry mom.” I gesture for her to come over. “I’m sure he’ll be back.”

I have no idea if my voice sounded as ominous as it did in my head just there. The last thing I need right now is to have another freak in my life, and that creepy Ice Doctor freaked me the hell out.

My mom sits back down on the bed and an uncomfortable silence fills the room. A couple times it looks like she wants to say something, then hesitates. I break the silence for her.

“I told you it wasn’t safe here.” My voice is raspy and weak.

Mom sighs and looks at her feet. “What happened to you?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” I don’t mean to be mean, but it’s true.

“Kara, please-” Her voice breaks. “This isn’t the time for-”

“I don’t remember.”

She’s right, this isn’t the time for that conversation. Especially now that I know her memories and mind were tampered with. It’s probably not possible for her to believe me until that’s fixed. I was right about everything, but wrong about the scope.

Even if she did end up believing me, I don’t want her to get involved in any of this anyway. So, I lie and feel sick, like I could throw up. This is my mother I’m lying to, and this is no white lie. A little lie is fine, but this is a life altering event and I can’t share it with anyone I love.

I guess I hadn’t really thought of that until now. I can’t tell anyone about this. Literally no one. A paralyzing sense of loneliness hits me, and I lie back down. I can’t tell anyone who matters. From this point on my entire life is going to be a big lie.

There’s so much more going on than I thought. And I can’t trust anyone. I don’t even know if I can trust myself, considering my own memories have been altered as well.

She looks at me for a moment, and I can tell that she, just like the nurses and that weird doctor, doesn’t believe me. But that’s old news for her, and I guess she decides to forget about it for now. Good. Just stay out of everything. I’ll deal with it myself.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” She barely manages to finish her sentence before she’s crying. My mom is crying. “I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you too.”

I grab her hand and push my melancholy thoughts away for another time. Right now, she needs me. The old me. “It’s okay. Mom, it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.” I try to smile for her, but it pulls at my neck stitches, so I just keep reassuring her. “I promise you I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank god for that.” She rubs my hands with her thumbs even though her own hands are shaky. She’s barely holding it together. “They told me you died three times, Kara.”

“Three?”

“Yes. When they found you, the-they had to bring you back. Then you crashed in the ambulance and again on the…the operating table. Between the three, you spent seven whole minutes dead.” She’s so upset she can barely talk.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

“When they told me you needed more blood I knew it was bad.”

“Oh mom, you didn’t.”

“They didn’t have enough, we’re such a rare type, so of course I gave you some.”

“But mom, your anemia…”

“I’ll be fine, they’ve been force feeding me apple juice and supplements.” She gives a weak laugh and then starts to sob again, so I pull her into a hug. She’s crying because she thought she lost me. I start to cry because I know she has. I don’t even fight the tears. I’m not Kara Lowe anymore. I’m something entirely new.

“I’m sorry.” How could I do this to you? “I’m so sorry.”

That weird hobo was right… Why didn’t I just stay home?