I swing my legs over the side of the bed and wince when the burning in my toes intensifies at hitting the ground. As I quickly slip into some clothes I pray that the burning pain won’t spread to my legs until I’m a safe distance away from the apartment building. I slip into a pair of worn sneakers and grab my keys from the bowl by the front door. I pause before closing the door behind me, my left hand spasming at the sudden burn spreading through it.

I have waited too long, put it off because I really don’t want to go through it again. I have purposefully initiated pre- exam cram sessions with my friends to study for the upcoming midterms, knowing my week of freedom was almost up.

I walk out of the apartment building at a brisk pace and am already a block away before I even realise where I am heading. The Park calls me, beckons me to run through its lush grass and old trees. It’s not safe though, so I change course. I cover another four blocks before the burning spreads to my chest, causing me to stop breathing for a short minute. My feet automatically pick up the pace, running, searching for shelter, a safe place. Right when I’m starting to think about what lame excuse I’ll probably give Sebastian this time, the burn sears through my head, temporarily blinding me and stopping all thoughts. Time’s up.

I duck into the nearest alley, slink past the smelly homeless man muttering facts about football matches that took place months ago. I hide behind a couple of overturned boxes and try to quickly take off my clothes. By now, the pain has spread to my shoulders and neck, causing me to hunch over and grit my teeth in pain. I crouch down on all fours, knowing the worst is still to come.

I was right. The moment I crouched down was the moment my body surrendered itself to let the side of me I hid, the side of me I hated, escape. My feet are first. The bones elongate and the nails grow sharper and thicker. I collapse on my knees as the bones in my lower legs stretch and change, gritting my teeth as to not let out the bloodcurdling scream that’s threatening to escape, for that would surely alert the homeless man – In my head, I have started calling him ‘Cat’, because he smells and I have a possibly unhealthy Friends- fixation- of my presence.

My shoulders are next and I let out a yelp as they seem to press together, bones appearing to shorten but growing much stronger at the same time. My face elongates, my eyes slide further apart. To call what I’m feeling right now ‘pain’ would be a major understatement. It feels like a thousand red hot butter knives are slowly hacking away at my flesh, slicing of sliver by tiny sliver before letting a few hammers hit down on my bones, breaking every single one of them and reshaping them into something else entirely. I’m not in pain. I’m in agony.

When the last few lumps of dark hair sprout out of the spaces between where my fingers used to be, I huff in relief before letting myself fall down to the ground to catch my breath. I open my eyes and see how my surroundings look nothing like they did before. It’s like a pair of shades has been put over my eyes, turning the world a million different shades of grey.

My nose twitches. I smell so much more now. So many odours I couldn’t sense before now seem to float around me, making me want to chase the scents to wherever they come from. I smell roast beef to my left, the homeless man’s smell has grown even stronger on my right, the Chinese restaurant down the block smells like heaven and the Burger King a street away makes me want to vomit a bit.

I stretch where I lie, popping each joint and flexing each muscle. It feels like finally being able to stretch your arms after having worked at a desk ten hours straight. I stand on all fours and catch my reflection in shards of broken beer bottles. I curl my lip up, fangs gleaming in the light of the harvest moon. A 140 pound wolf stares back at me, teeth bared and almost smirking in triumph. I twitch my ear. So does the beast in my reflection.

‘Cat’ twitches in his sleep and I realise I need to get moving. Not only because my paws are itching for a good run, but also because I can’t afford to be seen. My thick, black fur makes it difficult to spot me, but I’m not exactly invisible either and a large wolf trotting down the streets of New York might raise an eyebrow or two.

I slink past ‘Cat’ and try to stick to the shadows for most of my way to the park. I know I shouldn’t go there, I do, but I’m over an hour’s run away from the nearest forest or valley and I know I can’t hold back for so long. My legs are twitching begging me to run. My ears are picking up every sound in a one mile radius, looking for something to chase. The park’s the only place I’ll get both. I’ll run and maybe chase a squirrel or something. It’s not exactly the deer or human prey my wolf wants, but it’ll have to make do.

I reach the park in mere minutes, jumping over trash cans and scaring a few cats along the way. The air in the park is clearer, more natural and free. Instead of the heavy musk of human sweat, I smell the leaves on the trees, the scent of rain still clinging to them from the afternoon rain. I smell berries and daisies and leftover smells from where the roasted peanuts vendor usually is. My ears pick up the soft whooshing of the wind picking up fallen autumn leaves and carrying them elsewhere.

My left ear twitches. I hear the squirrel I promised myself earlier. It scurries down the bark of a nearby tree in search of nuts or something like that. I slink towards it, sitting down behind it to watch it busy at work, waiting for it to notice me.

After a few seconds of watching it scurry around, it suddenly stops in its movements and slowly turns around on its haunches as if sensing my presence. Its eyes grow comically wide and it drops the nu it’s been holding. Somewhere in the human part of my mind I’m remind of an animated film character from a film I watched with Sebastian a few months ago. The squirrel takes its first hesitating step backwards. Then another. Finally, it just turns around and starts running as fast and as far away from me as it can with his tiny little feet. My inner wolf howls with delight. Game on.

I leap forwards, gaining momentum with each step. I follow the little squirrel between the trees and chase it up a fence, then down again. If I’m honest, I’ll admit that I’m not really hunting. I’m not hungry enough, and there’s hardly any meat on that scrawny little thing anyways. No, I’m just playing. I love the chase, revel in the thrill it gives me even though logically I know the squirrel is not match for me. Wolfs don’t really care much for logic, though.

After a few minutes of happy chasing – for me at least- the squirrels seems to finally gather its wits around it and scampers up a tree, where it knows I can’t follow it. I look up at the tree, pouting mentally. I guess play time is over then.

It’s probably time to head back anyway. If I hurry, I might even get back home before Sebastian comes home from work. Mind made up, I turn where I stand and go back the way I came. Two streets from where I left my clothes, a ginger cat crosses my path. I do nothing but look at it, silently hoping it will want to play with me like the squirrel unknowingly did. The cat hisses at me, baring its teeth. I’m not impressed. I bare my teeth right back at it and huff a little. It scampers off quickly, most likely realising it wouldn’t survive fighting me. A pity, really. I used to be a cat person before my first Change. Now felines won’t even come near me when I’m human anymore.

I quickly trot back to my clothes, passing the thankfully still asleep homeless man with ease. My Change back into human form is relatively painless compared to changing into a wolf. My body knows my human shape better than it does my animal shape. My father would be so proud. Hah, as if.

After my Change I start the long walk back home, tired from Changing and running, but less antsy than I was before. I resolve to wait less long to Change again than I did this time. Eight days was really stretching my limits.

I wonder what time it is and as I pass a 24- hours- open DIY, I glance inside at the rusty old clock hanging above the counter. It’s a quarter past four. Shit, Sebastian would be home by now, for sure. His shifts usually ended at half past three and he was never home later than four.

I start to walk faster, trying to think up something to excuse my wondering around at night as I go. A late night visit to the library perhaps? No, I’m studious, but that won’t fool him. He knows I hate being in public spaces for too long. A run to the store? For what? We only did our groceries this morning. A quick trip to the gym? Again: public spaces. I’ll just have to settle for saying I fell asleep studying at Rick’s or something. I’ve used that excuse a few times already though and he probably won’t buy it for much longer. I sigh, wishing a wish I’ve wished thousands, if not millions of times before: If only I were normal.

My eyes read a street sign a mile away. Not normal. My ears pick up the sound of the same cat that tries to challenge me earlier pitter pattering a few streets behind me. Abnormal. I can smell the Indian delhi down the street from my apartment building even though I’m still a few blocks away. Not normal. I wrap my hands around a street lantern and softly squeeze. When I pull my hands away there are handprints pressed deep into the steel, as if I just squeezed silly putty. Definitely not normal. And, oh yeah, I Change into a wolf once a week. So far beyond normal it doesn’t even rate on the scales anymore.

My apartment building comes into sight and I walk just the slightest bit faster, eager to get home. Walking into the small lobby, I fleetingly smile at the grumpy night guard who’s been there for as long as I can remember. He merely raises an eyebrow and grunts in response. My smiles immediately slides off my face and I turn in the direction of the crappy elevator, foregoing the stairs this time.

Right as the doors close behind me, a hand reaches in from the outside, stopping them from closing. The man attached to the hand quickly steps into the elevator, running a hand through his wavy blonde hair as he comes to stand beside me. I’m surprised at his presence in the elevator, since I had thought him to be home already.

“Sebastian!”, I yelp, wincing as my voice goes higher than it usually does. “What are you doing home so late?”

He smiles at me, pulling me into a strong hug before quickly kissing me. I revel in the contact. He smells familiar. A hint of the chicken cabonerra he made for dinner – I’m dreadful in the kitchen-, a whiff of his shampoo and body wash, the heavy scent of smoke and beer courtesy of his job and… cologne? Odd. Sebastian doesn’t wear cologne. He lets go of me and presses the button that will get us to our floor.

“We had some customers that had to be forcibly removed,” he explains, “I was done anyway, so I volunteered to detain them a bit until they could be picked up. How about you?”

“Fell asleep at Rick’s again,” I say, hating how the lie rolls off of my tongue so easily. “I swear there’s something about that couch…”

He chuckles, completely buying into the lie. I hate myself just a little bit more. As the elevator doors open to let us out, I turn to him: “Hey, did you get a new cologne? You smell different.”

He half-smiles. “Cologne? No, I know you hate that. Oh, wait. I went to the department store to get something for dad’s birthday. Mom’s been nagging at him to get a new cologne. I tested some on my skin, come to think about it.”

I nod, dismissing it. His dad’s birthday is coming up. A perfectly good explanation. Then why isn’t he looking at me? I watch as he fishes the key to our apartment from his pocket. I shrug the matter off. It’s just cologne. We walk into the apartment, me quickly moving to the bedroom to tidy the sheets I left in disarray when I left so fast earlier. I kick off me shoes and return to the living area to find Sebastian struggling with his own shoes. I chuckle and he mock- glares at me. As he stands up to walk to the bathroom for his pre- sleep shower he says over his shoulder:

“Oh, before I forget: Mom wanted to know if you were coming so she’d know for how many people she has to cook on dad’s birthday. You are coming right? You know how to handle my sisters way better than I do.”

One look at his puppy dog eyes – which he does better than I do, and I’m the canine in this relationship- and I’m sold. Abnormal Blaine Anderson, twenty- one year old werewolf, is going to do something as normal as visit the in- laws for a birthday party.

“Of course I’ll come,” I answer. His grinning face appears in the doorway to the bathroom. I catch the shirt he throws at me reflexively. He grins a completely different kind of grin now.

“Awesome,” he replies, before positively leering. “Join me?”

I grin back, stripping my shirt and nearly tripping over my socks in my haste to get to my gorgeous boyfriend. Of course I will.