DAMICA

I feel like the most awful person on the planet.

Sawyer was the sweetest guy and I run out on him like he was disease.

It totally wasn’t his fault. It’s my damn brain.

I heard them again. Whispering behind the mirror.

Then they called to me. The laughing started and the mirror looked like it was distorting. I got the hell out of there as fast as I could.

Sawyer must be so confused and insulted. My first real date in years and I do this? I’m fucking hopeless.

He’s such a good looking guy too. Damn it!

When I first saw him, I couldn’t breathe. I was so captivated. His strong body and fabulous fire red hair gave me delightful shivers across my skin. His deep blue eyes made me feel like I could just drown in them. There was also a kind of mystery surrounding him too. Like he’s not showing me who he really is. I so wanted to replace out, but these damn voices. My broken mind won’t let me be happy.

I just don’t understand why. After 25 years, why?

When I got home, I chewed my pills and went to bed with a ton of guilt. Feeling so bad. I wanted to call him, but I’m so damn embarrassed, I chickened out. What would I even tell him?

I’m sorry, Sawyer. I had a psychotic break? Oh yeah. Great start to a relationship.

I don’t even know if I want a relationship with him, but I know that I don’t want to start one with me going bonkers again.

Instead of fixing my broken love life, I decided to take the weekend to myself and try to figure out this mysterious piece of iron.

I have my laptop on my bed and a container of various drugs that I have to take. Uppers, downers and all the ones in between.

I read as much as I can as I crush the pills in my teeth like candy.

Then, when sleep found me, I dreamt of Sawyer and the laughter. I dreamt of the world that doesn’t exist and the madness it contains.

The next day, I repeat the process.

I wake up, have a litany of pills and continue searching the net for hours on the iron piece.

After a few hours, I give up. This piece is impossible. So, I close the tabs and delve into my other obsession. One that my doctors don’t know I have been continuing since I left them.

That wolf men are real. I know they are. They may not live in my reflections, in a world of crazy nonsense, but here. They live here.

When I pretty much give up on normal life, I scour the net looking for proof they exist.

I read stories of unfathomable wolf fights. In numbers that are unknown to zoologists.

Wolves coming in numbers so great they could make an army then disappearing without a trace.

I read stories of these armies seemingly protecting humans from attacks.

The links point to wolves with supposed powers. Able to disappear and reappear. Wolves with abilities to freeze whatever they touch. Wolves with unimaginable strength and agility. Even wolves supposedly using human equipment and tools.

There’s tons of photos of humans and wolves fighting together in some sort of battle against other wolves and humans.

Mutilations of human bodies found dead in half transition. They look human, but with wolf heads and fur.

The internet is full of it. Unfortunately, it’s on the side of the web that nobody believes. Store rags, science fiction and conspiracy sites.

Sites that claim the government is performing experiments on us.

Sites that call humans to arms to join what they call The Scarlett Hood. A band of shifter hunters.

Their pages are filled with accounts of encounters with the animals.

I see the illustrations and the pictures. I look at them and close my eyes.

My mind goes to my dark room and the four men who stood before me. Just after their bodies rearranged from wolf to human. Their eyes just as dark and dangerous as their leader.

I open my eyes and print out papers.

I go to my closet and open the two sliding doors. I grab my pack of pins and pin the articles and pictures to the walls. They join all the other pictures. Pictures of a military base in the Midwest that allegedly holds these armies. Articles of fights in the mountains in the west coast. Even accounts from the jungles of Brazil.

The most I’m interested in though, is London.

In it is a man they call the King. Through my research, his name is Zander Maximus. He controls the shifters. He’s murdered thousands and we don’t care. I don’t get it. He'll murder more if I don’t expose him.

I pull the picture of Zander off the wall. I look at his short, blonde hair and strong jawline. My memory flashes to a dark and evil face. They look the same, except the Zander I faced as three claw marks across his face.

I place the picture back on the wall. Then there’s River Blake. Raging lunatic. In my fantasy world, the man I know, would slit your throat in a second. He’d stare at you with his one good eye and his sick, evil smile.

When I found their pictures, I thought, If I’m to believe my dark fantasy is real, the faces in this world have to be real too.

As I stare at my wall of evidence, my phone rings.

I pull it out and answer it.

“Hello?” I ask. I don’t recognize the number.

“Uh…Hi…Damica.” The voice on the other end answers.

“Sawyer?” I walk out and close my closet. “How did you…”

“I have ways." He chuckles. “I just wanted to know if you were OK. After, Friday…”

I wrap my arm around myself. “I’m…sorry.” I sigh as I apologize.

“It’s fine…just…what happened?” He asks.

I sit on my bed. “I just…had a thing. It’s not something to worry about.”

“Ok. As long as you’re OK.” He pauses. “You want to do something?”

“You…still want to see me?” I look confused.

I get up and pace around my bedroom floor as I hold the phone to my ear. My skin warms at the sound of his voice and the thought that he really wants to see me after my humiliating exit from our date.

“Sure. Why not?”

“I figured after leaving…” I start.

“You had a thing…We all have things.” He says.

I quietly chuckle. “I guess that’s true.” I sit back down and shut my laptop. “So…What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know. Let’s figure it out.”

He barely finished his sentence when my doorbell rang.

I look up to my bedroom door and get up.

I’m still holding the phone to my ear when I get to the front door. I open it and Sawyer has one hand on my door frame and he’s holding his phone to his ear.

“Got any ideas?” He smiles.

I laugh and hang up. He pockets his phone. I look at him and shake my head. “I’ll grab my purse.”

I lock up and join him in the hallway.

We grab a couple of coffees to go and take a walk around Washington Memorial Park.

It’s busy today. Tourists take pictures of the Tall, pointed monument. People gather around the large rectangular pond. We replace a bench next to the water.

I drink my cup as I eye Sawyer in his white t-shirt, blue jeans and boots. His red hair kind of hangs in eyes as he leans on his knees. He hold his coffee in his hands. My eyes float around his muscular bicep and back which slightly flex as his body make subtle movements.

“You want to talk about it?” He rolls his perfect blue eye to me.

I cross my legs and lean back on the bench. “Not really. It’s embarrassing enough. Just forget it.”

He nods. “Ok. So…before you ran away from me, screaming…”

I laugh. “I didn’t run from you screaming.”

He sits back. “Yes, you did. It’s fine. I’m scary.” He smirks.

“You’re not scary.” I smile.

He tilts his head to me. “It’s OK. You can admit it.”

I turn to him, putting a leg on the bench. “You’re not scary, Sawyer. You’re definitely different.”

He juts his head back. “I am?”

I nod. “Not a lot guys would be sitting here right now after Friday. You aren’t the least bit deterred.”

He sighs and drinks his coffee. “Like I said. We all have issues. Maybe I don’t want to fault you for it. I kind of like what I see otherwise.” He glances at me with a small smile.

“You…you like me?” I glance back at him.

He tilts his head back and looks at me. “Yeah…yeah, I do.”

I think about it. This could go so many ways. But one step at a time seems good. I look into his smiling blue eyes. “I like you too, Sawyer.”

“You do?” He asks.

“Yeah.” I smile.

He heaves a breath of relief and leans forward on his knees. He covers his forehead with one hand. “Oh thank God. I thought I was going to have to bribe you with more money.”

I scrunch my brows together.

He looks at me through his arm and smiles a toothy smile.

I laugh and push his shoulder. He laughs too.

He sits up. “I want to get to know you, Damica.”

“What you see is pretty much it. I work, I go home and work some more.” I say.

“Sounds like I came at the right time.” He grins.

I lift my brow. “Oh really.” I say cautiously.

He puts his arm across the back of the bench. His hand reaches just past my shoulder.

“You, dear doctor, are suffering from a lack of excitement.” He smirks.

“I am, am I?” I lean my shoulder on the back of the bench.

He nods. “Yes, you are and it’s a bad case.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head like I’m dying.

I chuckle. “Oh dear. Whatever will I do?” I say sarcastically.

He grins and leans close to me. “Take two of me and call me in the morning.” He ticks his head playfully.

I burst out into laughter and shove him back as he laughs. “I think I’ll get a second opinion.”

He drops his head. “Damn.”

I chuckle. “Maybe after a few more visits?” I lean to him.

His eyes replace mine. “I’d like that.”

I nervously smile as I tuck my hair behind my ear.

It’s funny, the whole time I spent with Sawyer, it was like all my problems disappeared. Like I had a chance at some sort of new life.

He represented a sense of normalcy and I liked how that made me feel.

I won’t spill my life story to him. I’m not sure if I ever will. All I know is, Sawyer Dawn seems to be a medication that helps more than any of the other pills I take.

Which for someone like me, that may be the best thing that ever happened in my life.

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